The Rogue Knight (11 page)

After Prince Llewellyn and his Welsh had sacked Gareth Castle in 1260, Earl Simon had marched down from Chester. Llewellyn had slipped back into the rugged highlands, a place no knightly army could hope to find or corner him. Soon thereafter, the uneasy truce between Simon and the King had broken apart. Then, two years later in November 1262, one of Llewellyn’s barons had through trickery entered Mortimer’s border castle at Cefnllys. Once in control of the enemy castle, the Welsh had begun to dismantle it. Roger had called out his knights and had summoned his high vassals. Hugh had declined the invitation, but had sent a sum of money instead. Roger marched into a trap, for Llewellyn with the bulk of his host had descended upon the earl and his knights. There, within the skeleton of the razed castle, Roger had been besieged. Upon his oath, he’d agreed to pay Llewellyn if the prince allowed him to march free. Soon thereafter Earl Roger Mortimer had ridden in strength to Pellinore Castle. In this very hall, Hugh had entertained him, and in this hall, Hugh had been forced to give up yet another large sum of money.

It was a vassal’s obligation to help pay his lord’s ransom. Earl Mortimer, Alice quietly heard Father Bernard explain to the others, had insisted that Llewellyn’s fee had been a form of ransom. Hugh had suggested that Roger find a bishop to absolve him from his oath. Roger hadn’t believed he could find such a bishop. So in the end Baron Hugh had opened his treasure chest and paid his liege three-quarters of the asked-for sum.

1262 had melted into 1263. Llewellyn, inflamed by his victories, had released his armies upon the quarrelsome Western Marches. Countless castles had fallen. Even the Herefordshire lowlands had been ravaged. Only because of the unsuccessful sieges of some of the larger castles, and the northern invasion of Wales by Prince Edward of England, had Llewellyn’s armies finally been turned back. However, when rebellious Earl Simon de Montfort had finally broken with the King, almost all the Marcher barons had joined de Montfort’s standard. Llewellyn had taken that opportunity to besiege the last of the royal castles in the Western Marches. Roger Mortimer, no friend of Simon, had also borne some of Llewellyn’s attacks, since Roger hadn’t joined the rebellious barons but stayed loyal to the King.

Roger had therefore ridden once more to Pellinore Castle, which hadn’t been invaded any of these years by Welsh, rebellious barons or revengeful Prince Edward. Baron Hugh had paid over another lump sum to Earl Mortimer. More than ever, explained Father Bernard, Baron Hugh had wished to keep his warriors at home in order to protect his lush valley.

“Alas,” said Father Bernard to the knights and to Alice, “now Pellinore’s treasure chest is bare. But that will not satisfy Roger Mortimer. More than ever, he yearns for money in order to keep an army in the field. He plots with Prince Edward against Simon.”

Sir Walter nodded somberly.

“Civil war is a bitter thing,” the bailiff said.

Philip roared with laughter.

“Sir Knight, what we discuss is a serious matter,” Father Bernard told him in reproach.

“I agree, Father,” Philip said. “Please, excuse my laughter.” He turned and shouted, “Dog boy!” He drained his ale and banged his fists upon the table. “Dog boy!”

A moment later Cord stepped near.

Alice studied him. Cord looked scared, although he tried to hide it. Where was the fire she’d seen this afternoon?

“Dog boy,” Philip said roughly, “I believe the Baron laid a fine upon you today.”

“He did, Sir Knight,” Cord said softly.

“Yes,” Philip said. “Because of your foolishness an expensive Italian mastiff died. Baron Hugh said that you would pay his purchase price.”

Cord twined his hands around the hat he held.

“Set ten pennies on the table,” Philip ordered.

Cord made an attempt to clear his throat. “I don’t have ten pennies, sir.”

“What?” Philip asked. “You lack ten pennies?”

“Yes, milord.”

Philip stroked his scarred chin in an exaggerated way. “This is not right, I think,” he said to the others. “Baron Hugh laid a fine upon him. Now he must pay.”

“Did Baron Hugh indeed pay ten pennies for Senno?” asked the bailiff.

Philip gazed at the bailiff. “I have said ten pennies, so ten pennies it was.”

“So much money for a dog?” the bailiff asked. “Five pennies possibly, maybe six, but ten?”

“I said ten,” Philip growled, thrusting out a stubborn chin.

“Five or ten,” Cord said, “I have neither.”

“What do you own?” Philip snapped.

“My knife,” Cord said warily. “My boots and my clothes.”

“Nothing more?” Philip asked. His eyes held a strange light.

“No, milord.”

“You’re a liar!” Philip shouted.

Shocked silence filled the hall. Most of those present were illiterate. A man’s word thus counted even more. To be branded a lair was a terrible slur.

Alice saw perspiration almost leap onto Cord’s face. His strong fingers clenched his hat even tighter than before.

Philip grinned. His canines seemed longer than other men’s teeth. It made him seem wolfish, like a dangerous beast. “Yes, you’re a liar, dog boy.”

Cord winced at Philip’s words. Then the huge mastiff Sebald ambled up, leaning his bulk against the dog boy’s long legs. To Alice’s eyes, it seemed that Cord derived strength and courage from the dog. His hand fell onto the mastiff’s head and he straightened.

“I think you own a ring,” Philip said. “A gold ring.”

Cord’s right hand flew up to his tunic. No, Alice thought, to something hidden
under
his tunic.

“Show us your golden ring,” Philip said.

Cord shook his head.

“Show us!” Philip shouted.

“No,” Cord said.

“Dog boy!” the bailiff said.

Cord’s head whipped toward the bailiff.

“Do you own a golden ring?” the bailiff asked in his judicial tone.

Sebald leaned harder against Cord. Cord petted Sebald and glanced down at him. When he looked up, he said earnestly, “Milords, the Baron said that if Old Sloat was slain that I would be the new forester. Surely the ten pennies could be taken from my wages.”

Philip laughed. “Are you sure the Baron really said that?”

“He did,” Sir Walter interjected. “We all heard him.”

Philip stroked his chin again. “Can we give the forester position to a liar?”

“No, of course not,” the bailiff said. “Cord,” he asked, “do you own a golden ring?”

Cord nodded miserably.

Philip grinned in delight, but didn’t laugh, as it seemed he wanted to.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you owned the ring?” the bailiff asked in a gentle voice.

Cord hung his head.

“Dog boy,” the bailiff said quietly. “Look at me.”

Cord raised his head.

“Show me the ring,” the bailiff said.

“It’s… it’s my father’s ring,” whispered Cord.

“Show it to me,” the bailiff said.

“Milord,” Cord said in an agonized tone, “it’s all I own that once was his. It’s his heirloom to me. I-I didn’t think of it in the way that Sir Philip suggested.”

“What do you mean?” the bailiff asked.

Cord said, “Sir Philip wanted to know of things that I could sell in order to pay Baron Hugh’s fine.”

The bailiff nodded.

“A moment,” said Philip. “Who is he to know the intent of my thoughts?”

“It’s what I thought, too,” said Hob
.

“And I as well,” Alice added.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Philip said irritably. “The dog boy lied.”

“Did he?” asked the bailiff.

“What do you mean: did he?” Philip loudly asked. “The evidence is before you. You’re supposed to be an honest judge.”

“Good sirs,” said Father Bernard. “We must remain calm and friendly.”

“I am an honest judge,” the bailiff said, glaring at Philip.

“Then judge fairly,” Philip snapped.

The bailiff turned frosty eyes upon Cord. “Show me the ring.”

“Will…” Cord hesitated. “Will you return it, milord?”

The bailiff’s lean face grew hard.

“Remember,” Hob said, “it’s an heirloom from his father. In all the world, it’s his only true possession.”

The bailiff grew thoughtful, then nodded. “I will return the ring.”

Cord lifted a leather thong from his neck and handed over a large golden ring. Upon it was the image of a lion. It had been his father’s signet ring.

“This is worth more than ten pennies,” the bailiff said.

“In fact,” said Philip, “it will mightily help pay Sir Guy’s relief.”

The bailiff said, “That would be true if Sir Guy owned the ring. But he doesn’t.” He handed the ring back to Cord.

Philip stared at the bailiff in obvious shock. At last, he blinked rapidly and then asked Cord, “What do you have to say for yourself now, liar?”

The bailiff shook his head. “I don’t believe he lied.”

“Are you daft?” Philip asked. “You saw the ring.”

The bailiff said, “A lie is done in malice, to protect oneself, to cover up a misdeed. The boy simply didn’t remember his ring.”

“You’re wrong,” Philip said.

The bailiff retained his composure. “I have made my judgment. When you asked the boy for items that he could sell, it would be reasonable for him not to consider the ring. For an heirloom is not such a thing. Therefore he didn’t lie. And since Baron Hugh said that if Old Sloat were killed that Cord would become the forester—”

“He swore it by Saint Hubert,” Sir Walter added.

“Oh,” the bailiff said. “Why, if he swore it, then Cord is now the forester.”

“Not so quickly,” Philip said. “That is Sir Guy’s decision.”

“Is it?” asked the bailiff. “Or is it Baron Hugh’s last request?”

“What do you say, Father?” Alice asked Bernard.

Before Father Bernard could speak, Philip said, “I’m the seneschal. I then am the lord of Pellinore Castle until Guy returns. Cord is not the forester.”

The bailiff considered that. “Very well. Cord will not become the forester until Sir Guy returns.”

“And only
if
Sir Guy agrees to make him forester,” Philip said. None of the other smaller knights said anything to that. “Now, the dog boy must still pay the ten pennies.”

“I’ll pay them in his stead,” Alice said.

“What?” Philip glared at her. “Why do that?”

“Because the dog boy slew Old Sloat,” Alice said. “Because of all of us here, Cord came the closest to saving the Baron’s life.”

“Are you mad?” Philip asked. “Cord cost us the Baron’s life. If not for the dog boy’s wicked news Hugh would still be alive.”

“Nonsense,” Alice said.

“Yes, nonsense,” the bailiff said.

“I think Sir Guy might see it otherwise,” Philip said softly, dangerously.

“That, sir, is a terrible burden to put upon the dog boy,” Alice said. “Since I’ve put up the ten pennies, I wish to see your horrible charge rebuked as soon as possible. Therefore, I’ll take Cord with me so Sir Guy can absolve him tomorrow.”

“What are you saying?” Philip asked.

“Someone must tell Sir Guy this tragic news,” Alice said. “I plan to leave early tomorrow morning.”

Philip stared at her for a moment and then laughed crudely. “You’re staying right here, lass. Do you think I’m fool enough to let you go back to Gareth Castle? Baron Hugh kept you here, so will I. And so, I suspect, will Sir Guy, at least until we can find you a suitable husband.”

“A ridiculous stricture,” Alice said. “I refuse to accept it any longer.”

Philip said sternly, “I order you to stay within the castle until Guy and I return.”

Alice glanced sidelong at the other knights. They would obey Philip, she saw. She cursed under her breath. That avenue was still closed. She fingered her crucifix and happened to glance at Cord. He was pale. Philip would surely poison Guy’s mind against him.

As Cord turned to go, he gave her a nod. She smiled back and suddenly thought of a way to help him. She would have to do this subtly, she realized, needing a method, a way to do it. The way came a moment later, when Hob rose and dipped his jack into an ale barrel.

Alice listened as the conversation moved back to Baron Hugh’s goodness. Toasts were given, pledges to uphold his name made. Father Bernard, however, kept tugging as his lower lip.

“The dues aren’t to be paid for more than a month yet,” Father Bernard said, as much to himself as anyone else.

“Yes, and turning the tenants’ grain, wool and chickens into coin will take longer yet,” said Sir Walter, who had often helped Baron Hugh collect the dues from those who lived in the fief.

“Maybe Guy could take a loan from the Jews,” Philip said.

Father Bernard shook his head. “That is the way of kings and of the highest lords. To owe the moneylenders and pay usury won’t help our new baron in the long term.”