To Defy a King (50 page)

Lenveise gestured and a squire poured wine for de Melun. The latter hesitated to taste it. 'No offence, my lord, but caution has more than once kept me alive.'

'Understandable.' Lenveise poured himself a drink from the same flagon and took a long swallow. 'If you will come to the Earl's solar, we can discuss matters in comfort.' He gestured with an open hand, and de Melun walked towards the door. Leaving the children with Ida, Mahelt followed the men, and when de Melun looked at her with a raised eyebrow and Lenveise scowled, she stood her ground. 'I will not be excluded,' she said icily. 'I am the daughter of the Earl of Pembroke and my son is a future Earl of Norfolk.

I speak in right of him and my husband.'

A vein throbbed in Lenveise's neck. 'As you will, madam,' he replied with a stilted bow. De Melun narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

Once they had reached the Earl's solar and closed the door, de Melun put his wine down on a small trestle table. He eyed a hat sitting on top of a pile of parchment, several pheasant feathers pinned to the side by an amber jewel.

'The lord King demands that you open Framlingham's gates to him and yield the castle and its garrison to his mercy,' he said.

'And we have all seen that "mercy" many times over!' Mahelt spat, eyes flashing. 'We will never open the gates - never!'

De Melun smiled sourly. 'You have courage, my lady, but little sense. You would be wise to cooperate with the King.'

Lenveise said, 'I cannot surrender Framlingham without the Earl's consent. I must seek his permission and he is not here.'

'But you would do so if he commanded?'

Lenveise inclined his head. 'I obey the Earl's will and when last I spoke to him, he gave me no such instruction. The castle is well defended, as you can see for yourself, and as any of your men will discover if they come within range of our crossbows.'

'That may be so, my lord, but any castle can be broken, as well you know.

Even the great keep at Rochester was no proof against the lord King's sappers. Every strong-hold he has invested has fallen to his onslaught.'

'London holds out,' Lenveise said.

'Indeed, but soon it will be isolated . . .'

'The French . . .'

'. . . are not coming.' De Melun made a dismissive gesture. 'I am authorised to give you a choice. Yield Framlingham and go from here in the peace of God with your lives and your lands intact, or see all wasted and destroyed.

The Isle of Ely is in flames. It would take little enough to do the same to Framlingham.'

'Do you think my father will stand by and let you do this to us?' Mahelt demanded with frozen rage.

De Melun shrugged. His eyes were as hard as clear brown glass. 'The Earl Marshal knows what is at stake and where to give due loyalty. As his daughter you might think yourself worthy of special consideration, but as the wife of a traitor, your fate is tied to that of your marriage family. Yield and all will be well. The King is willing to offer his peace even now to the Earl of Norfolk and his son if they will only return to their allegiance.'

'We will never yield, never!' Mahelt spat. 'We will withstand whatever you send against us. Let your men come and let them die.' She was the child picking up handfuls of salve to sling at her brothers. Defending the castle with whatever she had to hand, determined to win.

'Madam, this is not woman's work,' Lenveise said brusquely. 'The Earl left the defence of this castle in my hands. It is my task to make the decisions.'

She stiffened. 'In my father's household, it was women's work if the lord was not by. My mother faced down the Irish lords when my father was absent, and she was heavy with child at the time.'

'But you are not in your father's household, my lady. You are a Bigod wife now and different rules apply. I pray you retire and leave this business to men.'

Mahelt glared at Lenveise, hating him with every iota of her being because he made her powerless, and the only threat she had to offer was the power of another man. Whatever words she threw at him, she would be like a spitting cat outnumbered by dogs. 'I may be a Bigod by marriage,' she said as she went to the door, 'but I am all Marshal by blood, and you will know it before I am done.'

Once Mahelt had gone, de Melun looked at Lenveise. By mutual agreement, neither man mentioned her. Her leaving was like shutting a window on a cold draught and made it more comfortable to get down to business.

'You will make it much easier on yourselves if you surrender the castle,' de Melun said.

Lenveise shook his head. 'I cannot do that without my lord's permission.'

'If you do not yield, the King will be savage. You have seen what he is capable of. He would order the destruction of the demesne lands, hang the garrison and if men such as yourself survived it would be to the humiliation of fetters and a ransom that would beggar your kin to pay.' De Melun leaned forward for emphasis. 'You know he can take you. Rochester was reckoned impregnable, but it wasn't. The French won't come.'

Lenveise gave him a hard stare. 'We can hold you off these walls with our archers for as long as you choose to be slaughtered.'

'I appreciate your fighting talk.' De Melun gave a judicious nod. 'I know you have to say such things. But would you see your lands confiscated or destroyed? Your barns razed? The King can send his mercenaries out to ravage at will while you are shut in here. Slaughter runs both ways.'

'And if I agree to yield, how do I know that such punishments will be spared?'

'You have the word of the King.'

Lenveise arched his brows. 'In that case, I prefer to take my chance with my life and that of everyone else within my care.'

'You will be given letters patent.' De Melun gestured brusquely. 'Your knights will be asked for hostages for their good word, and in exchange they will receive the King's peace and be given full seisin of their lands. If not ...

I have told you the alternative.'

Lenveise chewed on his thumbnail. 'What of the Countess and Lady Bigod?'

he asked after a moment.

'That can be negotiated. The King has no quarrel with the Countess, and the other lady is the Earl Marshal's daughter. Since he is one of the King's mainstays, I am certain we can come to mutual agreement.'

Lenveise finished his wine and eyed the feathers in his lord's hat as they quivered in a movement of air. 'I shall need a day to consider my decision . .

.'

De Melun drank up and made to leave. 'I shall convey your reply to the King. Make no mistake, he will win this fight, and those who do not bow to him will be destroyed.'

When de Melun had gone, Lenveise rubbed his hands over his face, and then, squaring his shoulders, sent his oldest squire to summon the knights to the guardroom. He bit the inside of his cheek as he saw Mahelt advancing on him, her stride as bold as a man's. The Countess knew her niche but the young mistress was imperious and lacked any sense of the natural order.

'My lady.' He gave an infinitesimal dip of his head.

She afforded him no similar courtesy. 'What did you say to him?'

'I said we needed time to consider,' he replied woodenly.

'There is nothing to consider,' she snapped.

'On the contrary, madam, there is a great deal to consider, not least the lives of everyone within this castle.'

'Then you will keep the gates shut. You must send word to Lord Hugh and the Earl of Norfolk.'

Lenveise struggled with his patience. 'They do not have the resources to relieve the siege, my lady. If they come to us, they will only be captured themselves.'

'We can hold out. We have the men and the supplies.' Her eyes blazed. 'I will not yield to that man.'

'My lady, I will do my best for all concerned. Do you think I want to give in to tyranny? You will excuse me.' Without waiting her leave, he bowed again to terminate the encounter and strode away.

Mahelt clenched her fists. She sensed this was not going to end well because Lenveise did not have the stomach for a fight. She had been right, and the price of Hugh's refusal to heed her was going to beggar everyone.

In the morning, the King's heralds returned to demand the surrender of the castle. Mahelt was praying in the chapel with Ida when the summons came and the first she knew was when a frightened servant interrupted her prayers to whisper that the royal army was entering Framlingham.

'No!' she cried, rising from her knees and running to the door to stare at the mercenaries and soldiers streaming through the gateway. The King rode a white palfrey, the horse turning its head to one side as it paced, high-stepping, into the heart of her home. The garrison was kneeling to him, their weapons tossed in a surrendered pile in the middle of the yard. 'Holy Christ, no!'

Ida joined Mahelt at the chapel door and crossed herself. 'So be it,' she murmured.

Mahelt flung her an aghast look. 'Lenveise wasn't to give in!'

Ida shook her head. 'If Lenveise deems it for the best, we must trust his judgement. Be calm, daughter, or you will make the situation much worse than it is.'

Mahelt compressed her lips and strove to control her rage and her terror.

Images of a starving Maude de Braose and Will's murdered wife and baby flashed through her mind. Was this what it had come to? Were they all going to die of hunger and thirst in a dungeon? Or on the edge of a knife? John must be gloating now.

Ida turned to Mahelt with the composure of someone weary beyond caring.

'I will go out to him,' she said. 'I am the Countess, and it is my duty. You stay here.' She started forward, a diminutive, fragile figure in her gown of green silk.

'No, I won't hide.' Mahelt lifted her chin and drew herself together, knowing she could not let her mother-in-law shoulder this alone.

As the women emerged from the chapel, Mahelt's blood froze as she saw that her eldest son had escaped his nurse and was standing fearlessly in front of John, brandishing his toy sword. No thought in her mind but saving her child, Mahelt rushed forward, grabbed Roger, and pushed him behind her.

John dismounted at his leisure, the very indolence of his movements a threat.

'Lady Bigod,' he said pleasantly. 'Countess Ida.'

'Sire.' Ida knelt.

John's lips curved and he said smoothly, 'You will be glad I have not damaged the castle defences. It would have been a pity to do so.' His tone insinuated that the walls of Framlingham were no more than fancy gilding on a marchpane subtlety. He removed his riding gauntlets. 'Your constable is wise and more fortunate than he knows. His prudence has saved you - as has your father's loyalty, Lady Bigod. I would not treat harshly with the favourite daughter of so faithful a man, even if she is allied to those who would do us harm.' He stepped forward and around Mahelt and pulled Roger forwards. 'Hah, you're a fine little knight, aren't you, my boy?'

Roger jutted his chin with pride. Mahelt dug her fingernails into her palms.

'Leave him alone,' she said in a burning voice.

Keeping his hand on Roger's shoulder, John eyed the women with triumphant scorn. 'Countess, Lady Bigod, you have my leave to go from here and seek succour where you will. You may take two knights for escort and the Earl's huntsmen and grooms. Let him feed those men rather than I.

The younger child and the infant may accompany you, I care not, but I have a mind to have this one as surety.'

'No!' Mahelt felt as if a stone had been dropped on her from a height.

'Never!'

John's gaze narrowed. 'I could keep all of you; think on that. I expect you to inform the Earl and his son that I dearly wish them to return to my peace. If they do, I shall treat them as leniently as I do yourselves now. They have a month to comply and in the meantime I shall take the boy into my service . .

. He will do well for me, I think.'

Mahelt couldn't think for the raw pain and terror. All she knew was that she wasn't going to let him take away her son as he had taken away her brothers.

Seizing Roger from the King, she caged her arms around him. 'No,' she hissed through bared teeth. 'You shall not have him!

John gestured and de Melun moved to separate mother from child. Mahelt fastened herself yet more tightly to Roger, protecting him like armour. 'You shall not take him!' she shrieked. 'You will have to hack me to death first!'

She bit de Melun and managed to twist free. Cursing, he grabbed her again.

One of his men seized her from the other side. Mahelt fought them with the strength of hysteria, but eventually her muscles weakened and she was overpowered. Four of them prised her off Roger, threw her to the ground, and a fifth pinned her down while she writhed and struggled.

'It is the King's will,' de Melun panted. His hand dribbled blood where she had bitten him. 'And you will yield to it, madam!'

'Kill me!' Mahelt sobbed, blind with tears. 'Because if you take him, I might as well be dead!'

Roger stared at her, his face white with shock, but he was still gripping his wooden sword. He turned now to attack de Melun, but the mercenary picked him up by the scruff, wrenched the sword out of his hand and cast it across the ward. 'You will learn your manners, brat,' he said, shaking him like a terrier with a rat. 'Whether you be the Marshal's grandson or not!'

John had stepped aside from the fray. 'Madam, you are a harridan,' he said with contempt, flicking his fingers at de Melun. 'See that she is confined for her own good. Bring the boy.'

'Sire.'

Still fighting and screaming, Mahelt was hauled to her feet, dragged to a guardroom cell in one of the towers and flung inside. She struck the wall, rebounded, and fell to the floor where she lay winded and bruised; defeated, but refusing to admit that defeat. She scrambled to her feet and hurled herself at the door, kicking and screaming, throwing herself against the solid oak planks. There was a grille in the door but as she tried to peer through it, the soldier on the other side slammed it shut and put her in darkness.

Eventually, worn out, Mahelt collapsed on the floor, weeping with rage and despair. Hugh had left them inadequately protected, knowing this might happen. He was free and clear with his chests of money while she and the children paid the price. Her brothers had been taken hostage and she couldn't prevent it, and now it had happened to her son and still she was powerless. It was as if her family's past was a great loop, repeating and repeating itself. Would Roger grow up to have sons and in his turn see them taken away? Would he live to grow up at all? Would any of her children?