The Renegade: A Tale of Robert the Bruce (15 page)

“By the time I reached the top I was furious—with you, in part, Humphrey, but mostly with myself for being so stupid as to let you walk behind me.” He looked at Percy, with whom he shared his quarters, then went on. “I dropped the armour on the floor inside the door and tried to dry myself with the sheet, but the damned thing was too clammy, so I snatched up the blanket from my cot and dried myself with that, thinking I might never be warm again. Then, with the blanket over my head, I let myself fall straight back onto my cot, shivering like a done man … ”

“And?” de Bohun prompted.

“And I was attacked by three females! They must have been hiding behind the curtain dividing Percy’s cot from mine. I heard them giggling just before they leapt on me, but my head was covered by the blanket and I had no chance to see them. Before I could sit up, one of them landed by my head and held me down, pressing the blanket over my eyes. Then they twisted it, tightening it behind my head, blindfolding me.”

For long moments no one made a sound, until Percy asked quietly, “
Three
of them?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Who were they?”

“I told you, I didn’t see them, so I don’t know.”

“Were they servants?”

“Hardly. Servants would never dare such a thing. At least not without encouragement.”

“And you had not encouraged them,” Bigod said.

“John, I didn’t know they were there until they leapt on me.”

“That is no answer.”

“You asked no question. But no, I have never encouraged any servant girls to be familiar with me.”

Bigod said, “But if they weren’t servant girls … then they must have been … ”

Bruce nodded. “Aye, they must have been. Three of the Muses.”

A profound silence ensued, with no one among the stunned listeners inclined to break it. Nine young noblewomen were staying with their parents as guests at the Palace of Westminster, all of them living in the royal apartments and far removed from the remote defensive tower where the squires were lodged. The girls ranged in age from thirteen to seventeen, and the four young men referred to them as the Nine Muses because they were as distant and ethereal as their classical counterparts, kept strictly apart from the avid young men by ever-vigilant and suspicious parents. The name was doubly apt, though, for each of the young women had provided inspiration, at one time or another over the course of the previous month, for at least one of the small group of nobly born squires who worshipped them from afar. The two groups never spoke or even mixed socially, but their eyes conversed eloquently whenever chance brought them within sight of one another, and the amount of silent flirting that occurred on such occasions provided the four lads with much to talk about in the hours between supper and sleep each night.

Now Bruce’s tale left his three companions wordless as they grappled with the implication: the notion that these divine young
creatures—or three of them, at least—might be less than supernaturally chaste. It was an astounding thought, for it contravened everything their knightly code had taught them to believe about noblewomen.

“Not this time, Bruce,” Henry Percy said with a slight smile. “This is one of your tales I’m not going to be gulled by.”

“What,” Bruce said. “You don’t believe me?”

Percy laughed. “Believe you? Would I risk offending a fellow squire’s honour by calling him a liar? Not at all. But let me say instead I’ve learned that your imagination sometimes leaps beyond the edges of our little world and our daily drudgeries. How many times have you enthralled us of an evening with your flights of fancy and your talk of women and the delights they have to offer, taking us with you to places in our minds where we would never venture by ourselves? This time, though, it’s taking place in daylight, and I fear the magic suffers without darkness to enhance it.” He glanced to where de Bohun sat glowering at them. “What say you, Humphrey?”

“I agree. He’s a liar.” His voice was flat, the insult coldly provocative.

Bruce sprang to his feet, about to leap at de Bohun, but then he stopped and narrowed his eyes, and he raised a hand to his face, splaying his fingers over his mouth and nose. Finally he leaned forward, extending the hand to de Bohun, fingers widespread. “Smell that, then tell me again that I lie.”

De Bohun scowled at the proffered hand, but reached out and took it, drawing it slowly to his nostrils. He sniffed deeply, then frowned and tensed visibly, and sniffed again, avidly this time, his eyes growing round with the shock of recognition.

Percy scrunched forward quickly on his buttocks and seized the outstretched wrist, bringing it to his own nostrils. “Sweet Jesus,” he breathed. “It’s true.” He turned slightly, offering Bruce’s hand to Bigod, but the young Norfolk shook his head, his features stiff.

“I believe it,” he said. “But I mislike it greatly. This whole thing smacks of sin and unknightly conduct.”

“How so?” Bruce asked sharply.

“How can you even ask that question? It is the deepest and most shameful sin to dishonour any woman by decrying her in such a way.”

“Decrying who, John? I named no one, so who have I maligned? No names were involved, nor will any be. I merely spoke of an encounter with three unknown women. I
saw
nothing. I
knew
none of them. I only know what happened.”

“And what
did
happen?” Percy’s voice was low. “Tell us … exactly.”

Bruce shook his head. “I can’t, because I don’t really
know
what occurred, apart from the obvious. I told you, I was on my back, on the bed, believing myself alone, and I was naked and unthinking. I heard, or felt, a sudden rush of movement, and before I could move I was jumped upon and held down. I had no hope of seeing who they were. They pinioned me, giggling and whispering. One of them lay across my neck, holding my head down. I could smell the scent she used—verbena or some such thing. Two others pulled my arms wide and knelt on them—”

“You made no attempt to fight them off?”

Bruce looked straight-faced at the questioner. “I know you called me a liar, de Bohun, but d’you think me truly stupid, too? They were girls. Women. Three of them. Soft and warm and wriggling. Laughing and whispering. Climbing all over me. Would
you
have fought them off? You probably would have, now that I think of it. But I?” He paused, as though considering the question, and laughed. “I made the best of it and did nothing. I lay there on my back and enjoyed everything they did to me. I grew excited, as any of you would, rearing up at them in plain sight, and they grew quiet. The measure of their stroking changed, moving down from my chest and belly as though drawn by the sight of what was there in front of them. And then one of them, the boldest, took me in hand … ” He cleared his throat noisily, willing a sudden tremor to leave his voice, then resumed in a calmer tone, his eyes moving from face to face among his spellbound audience. “I think it was the one on my right
side, though I cannot be sure. Her hand felt very small, her fingers almost cold. And then there were other fingers there, beside hers. I’ve never been so exalted, and it did not take long. I exploded. The hands withdrew and they watched in silence, not even breathing, as the hardness drained from me. And then I heard a whisper—something I did not catch—and they were gone. I heard their voices dwindling down the staircase.”

Henry Percy shook his head in wonder. “Did you not follow them?’

“Follow them? I couldn’t
move
. I doubt I would have had the strength to stand, had I tried at that moment. No, I did not follow them. I lay there for a time, my head still muffled in the blanket, reliving all of it and wondering what it meant. And then I remembered that I was supposed to be drilling. I pulled on fresh clothes and a clean tunic, and started putting on my armour. By then, though, I was too anxious to be able to buckle it all up properly and I decided to fasten the straps as I went. I ran into a servant on the stairs and almost killed myself and him … And the rest you know.”

“You saw no sign of any women when you left the tower?”

“God, no! They had been gone for ages by then. I looked, but there were only men in sight.”

“By the Christ, Rob, it might have been a waking dream,” Bigod said quietly, all thoughts of unknightly conduct long since vanished and now replaced with an expression of awe. “It could have been, if you but think on it. You were chilled and in pain, and tired. You fell back on your bed. You could have passed out and been visited by a succubus while you slept. A spirit of lust, immortal and intangible.”

Bruce extended the spread fingers of his right hand again. “Intangible?” he said. “I think not, John. Immortal spirits leave no human scents behind when they depart.”

Percy pointed at the hand. “How came you by that … scent? You made no mention of it.”

Bruce heaved himself to his feet, swaying awkwardly for a moment in the heavily padded armour until he found his balance. “I had no need to mention it, and no one asked.” He waited as they all
regained their feet, but before they could move anywhere de Bohun barked, “I’m asking now, then.”

Bruce shrugged. “They knelt on my arms,” he said. “I told you that. Well, when the stroking began in earnest and I started to respond, I could tell they were paying less attention to me and more to what was happening to me. The one on my right parted her knees, freeing my arm. And my hand was beneath her skirts. She made herself available to me right willingly … and that was what made me lose control and spill myself.”

“Jesu! And you will never know who she was.”

Bruce smiled. “Oh, I will know, Humphrey, if I ever find my hand in there again … ”

The royal summons arrived later that afternoon, delivered by a household steward who was plainly displeased at having had to spend his valuable time searching for a petty squire; a squire, moreover, who had been in none of the places where a squire ought to have been in the middle of the afternoon. He had finally found the four young men sprawling wet and half-naked on the grassy bank by a deep swimming hole in the stream that meandered towards the castle walls to feed the moat fronting the main entrance.

“Bruce!” he bellowed as he swept towards them, radiating displeasure. “Is one of you called Bruce?”

Henry Percy raised himself on an elbow and scowled up at the fellow, shielding his eyes with his free hand. “What does that matter to you, peacock? We have leave to be here, on our own time and about our own business.”

“Are you Bruce?” The question dripped with disdain.

Rob rolled over onto his belly and raised himself to his elbows, looking up at the bad-tempered messenger. “I’m Bruce. You have a message for me?”

“You are to present yourself in the Throne Room before supper. The King commands you.” The man sneered down at the haphazardly piled clothes and practice armour nearby. “I would suggest
you make yourself
present
able before you
present
yourself,” he said, smirking at his own wit, and then turned away.

Before he could take more than a step, Percy surged fluidly to his feet and tripped him from behind, sending him sprawling. The fellow sprang back to his feet quickly enough, his long white robe stained with grass and dirt, and spun around to face them, almost spitting with outrage, but his demeanour changed swiftly when he found a long-bladed sword at his throat, the point pressing beneath his chin. His mouth snapped shut and the colour drained from his face as he rose on his toes, wide-eyed. It was plain to Rob the man had no idea the sword was a practice weapon, blunt and useless, but Percy maintained an upward pressure on the dulled point to keep the fellow on his toes and witless with fear.

“You are what, fellow, a steward? Not a serf, I can see, but a servant none the less, with too high an opinion of yourself. Sufficient to persuade you to insult your betters. Stand still now—no, don’t move—and learn the extent of your prancing folly! I am Henry Percy, grandson of the Earl of Surrey. The smiling fellow over there on your left is John Bigod, heir to the earldom of Norfolk. Beside him is Humphrey de Bohun, who will one day be Earl of Hereford, and the fellow you have just insulted unforgivably with your spite and your surly speech is Robert Bruce, heir to the earldom of Carrick in Scotland and a close favourite of the King’s Majesty. Four future earls, halfwit. Four …
earls
.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Four solid causes for you to wonder how long you will survive as a
scullion
, let alone a steward, when we come into our own. Four powerful enemies for one mere fool to acquire in a brief moment of ill-tempered pettiness, think you not? Now get yourself out of our sight. Quick now, without another word, lest you have further cause to rue your stupidity. Run!” He swept up the practice sword as though to strike and the steward fled.

Rob was shaking his head. “I know he was an offensive idiot, Percy, but don’t you think you were a bit hard on him? Four earls, in God’s holy name. We are four squires, my friend, not yet even knighted, and I doubt that I, for one, shall ever hold an earldom.

John never will, I know. He’s Norfolk’s nephew, not his son, and we Bruces are a long-lived clan. My grandsire’s still a formidable man and he must be seventy.” He broke off and frowned. “I wonder what the King wants of me.”

“Probably to do with that Scots lad Humphrey said he saw come in with Bek,” John Bigod said. “If he’s really there, and if he’s young, the King will want you to look after him, protect him from dangerous future English earls like us.”

Rob shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, he came in with another lad—the fellow Percy named. What was it, Henry?”

“Clifford. Robert Clifford.” Percy shrugged. “I know Clifford is definitely there, but I wouldn’t wager on any Scot being in his company. I saw no one.” He looked Rob up and down. “That flunky was right, though. You’d better make ready to meet the King. You can’t go into the Throne Room dressed like that.”

“They probably won’t let me in now anyway. That steward, oaf or not, was a King’s messenger. He’s probably complaining now to the seneschal and they’ll arrest me as soon as I show my face.”