To Defy a King (51 page)

She would not put it past John to have them thrown down the castle well and claim their deaths as unfortunate accidents. The thought jolted her to her feet and once more she battered at the door and screamed for her babies, but no one came. Finally, exhausted, she curled herself into a ball of misery in the corner and stared numbly at the wall.

It was morning when they let her out to an overcast day with sleet in the wind and a bitter chill in the air. Bruised, dishevelled, tear-stained, Mahelt staggered from her confinement and glared at William Lenveise who was standing several wary paces away. 'You traitorous whoreson!' she hissed.

'May you burn in hell! What have you done with my children? Where are they? I want to see them. If they have been harmed . . .'

Lenveise recoiled. 'They are safe with their grandmother, I promise you.' He caught her arm to steady her and in warning. 'Best make yourself presentable first, my lady. If you walk in upon them looking as you do, you will terrify them.'

'And whose fault would that be?' Mahelt wrenched away. 'Do not touch me!

I despise you!' In the courtyard she could see carts being laden and horses harnessed.

'My lady, I did as I saw fit.' He would not meet her eyes.

'Then you are not "fit" to command.'

'My own son is a hostage too,' Lenveise said wearily. 'I did not take the decision lightly.'

'May it burden your conscience for the rest of your life!'

'Doubtless it will do so,' he said, tight-lipped. 'You are to be escorted from the castle this morning as soon as all is made ready.'

Mahelt became aware of the stares of servants and soldiers and glared back at them until they dropped their eyes in shame. 'So you will not have to look on me and be reminded of your perfidy?' She struck him across the face like a soldier making a battle challenge. His head snapped back, but he took the blow. It didn't make her feel any better. Turning her back on him, she stalked away to her chamber.

Her women were waiting, twittering like a flock of disturbed sparrows. But she wasn't a sparrow; she was a lioness, even if her claws had been ripped out. The room, previously bare of its hangings because the valuables had been stripped, resembled an empty barn. The chests were packed and the bed dismantled. Cloaks hung ready. She thrust off the wails of dismay, and the shocked exclamations, and ordered one of her ladies to bring her a comb and a bowl of scented water. She had them open a packed chest and find her a fresh chemise and gown. When the water arrived, Mahelt undressed and scrubbed herself with the washcloth from head to toe, and then towelled herself vigorously, as if by doing so she would strip herself of the night and day that had just been. She made it clear she did not want to talk to her women, neither to give them reassurance nor to be reassured herself. The only way she could endure these moments and go forward was by shutting the door on her emotions. It was another form of prison, self-imposed, but it was also her fortress against all comers.

Her ablutions complete, her garments fresh, she felt better able to stand straight and lift her head. She knew from the tenderness on the side of her face that she must be showing bruises to the world, but there was no help for that. Let that same world see what John was capable of.

Carrying herself like a queen, she crossed the ward to Ida's solar. As she entered the room, Hugo flung from his grandmother's side and ran to her, shouting, 'Mama! Mama!'

Mahelt seized him and held him fiercely against her body. 'I love you so much!' she gasped. 'Never leave me, never!'

Ida, who was cuddling the baby, rose from her chair. 'Oh my dear, what have they done to you?' she asked, her eyes filled with distress.

'They have torn out half of my heart,' Mahelt replied bitterly. 'But even if they take it all and wring it dry, I will not yield. Where's Roger? What have they done with him?'

Ida's chin wobbled. 'Oh my love, he has gone already. They took him yesterday just after they put you in that cell. The King had him sent to Norwich Castle. I am sorry, I am so sorry.' Tears spilled down Ida's face and she kissed the baby and held her close. 'He was very brave. He said you were not to worry, that he would do his duty.'

Mahelt gave a great gasp, but held herself together because she knew that if she broke, she would shatter beyond repair.

Ida closed her eyes. 'I would have put my body over his too, but I was not strong enough.'

'No, you were wise.' Mahelt's voice threatened to crack. 'The little ones needed you. Who else would look to their welfare with me locked up?' She hugged Hugo again, and then set him down before it became impossible to let him go.

Ida swallowed. 'I had to help Roger pack his chest. I had to separate his clothes from his brother's and I kept thinking back to when I was a girl at court and I was made to give up my son at the King's will . . . I fought too on that day, but to no avail. Kings always win. They always take away.' She stopped speaking, her eyes glassy with tears.

At the door, the knight Enguerard de Longueville cleared his throat. 'It is time to leave, my ladies,' he said.

Mahelt nodded. The sooner she was away from this place the better. There was nothing to hold her here now. No cause to defend it. All of that had been swept away. She donned her cloak and knelt to help her remaining son with his. 'Fasten tightly,' she said. 'It's cold outside.' Tenderly she drew up his hood and stroked his flushed cheek and tried not to think about Roger and whether anyone would have the care or consideration to do the same for him.

Hugo studied her from solemn bright blue eyes. 'Where are we going?'

'To London . . . to your grandfather's house.'

'Will Dad-dad be there?'

Mahelt's stomach clenched. 'I don't know.' She wanted to add that she didn't care either, but she did. Too much. And most of what she felt was rage and blame.

Ida had picked up the piece of sewing she had been most recently working on and that had not been packed with the rest of her belongings. 'I need to take this,' she said. 'Then it will be finished for our return. We must keep busy. There is always so much mending. How shall we ever do it all? How shall we repair what is torn?' She stared into space and seemed to lose the thread of what she was saying.

'Perhaps we won't,' Mahelt said. 'Some things can't be mended.'

Their escort was waiting in the courtyard. A small cart stood ready for Ida, the women and children. Tripes too, for he was too old and unsound to run behind the horses. For Mahelt there was her black mare. The bailey was full of strange knights and mercenaries, and of men who would not meet her eye.

Lenveise was conspicuous by his absence. But John was present, watching from an upper window, saying nothing, but wearing his triumph like a gold chain.

'I want Roger,' Hugo said as Orlotia settled him in the cart and tucked a rug around him. His bottom lip was pushed out and threatening to tremble.

'You'll see him in a few days,' Mahelt said in a tight voice, knowing she was probably telling a lie. 'He's had to go to Norwich just now.'

'Why?'

'Because the King said he had to.'

'Why?'

Because the sky is falling upon us. Because this King is a tyrant. Because
your father and your grandfather have allowed this to happen to those they
should have protected the most.
'Because there is a price to pay for everything,' she said.

Ida rallied and distracted Hugo's attention by giving him some wool to wind into a ball for her, and telling him a nonsense story. As they left Framlingham, Mahelt concentrated on riding and refused to think. It was as if there was a wild storm blowing outside but she had shut herself away from it. At some point she would have to emerge and deal with the damage, but not now, not yet. Perhaps never while she walked this earth.

41

London, March 1216

Towards dusk of their third day on the road, Mahelt and Ida reached the Bigod house on Friday Street. A heavy drizzle had been falling since noon and there was a creeping chill in the air. Ida was coughing and flushed; Hugo was wan and shivering; the baby was teething and had been wailing fractiously all day. Mahelt was aware of all this misery, but she watched it pass by from the refuge of her internal castle. Nothing was going to broach her walls.

As they turned into the yard, she saw that Hebon was tethered outside the stables being briskly rubbed down by Hugh's groom. The stallion's back bore the imprint of the saddle and tendrils of steam curled from his black hide. Other grooms were busy with horses and the stables were packed to overflowing.

As Mahelt dismounted from her mare, Hugh emerged from the building looking harassed and desperately worried. His travelling cloak was mud-spattered from hem to knee and he was white with exhaustion. Mahelt saw him and she saw none of him. All she knew was that he had allowed her and the children to become John's victims when he had promised he would hold them safe. Her stomach muscles were knotted to her spine with the effort not to scream at him, because she knew if she started, she would never stop.

'Dada, Dada!' Hugo scrambled from the cart and ran to his father.

Hugh seized him in his arms and, lifting him up, kissed him hard. 'You're all right! Thank God you are all right!'

'The King's taken Roger away!' Hugo said.

'I know . . . We'll get him back. I promise we will.'

Mahelt clenched her fists as Hugh approached, and stepped back because she didn't want him touching her. 'Is that like all your other promises?'

'I was doing my duty . . .' He reached one hand towards her cheek. 'Dear God, Mahelt, your face . . . What have they . . . ?

'Duty?' she spat. 'Do not speak to me of duty. You abandoned me and our children to the hands of weak traitors. You put gold and silver above our very lives!' Her temples pounded as she fought to stanch her fury.

His eyes darkened. 'That is neither true nor fair.'

'How dare you talk of truth and fairness? You weren't there when the King rode in and took Roger. When they dragged him out of my arms and threw me in a cell!' Her voice tore. 'You weren't there, Hugh. You weren't there!'

Ida was helped from the cart, staggering slightly as she gained her feet after the long journey. 'Please,' she implored, looking stricken, 'you must not argue, please, not here. Let us go within out of the cold and the rain.'

Mahelt closed her eyes and summoned the last of her reserves. For the sake of her children. For the sake of Ida and the refugees from Framlingham, she had to keep her balance.

'Is your father here?' Ida took a few steps towards the house and swayed on her feet. Hugh set his son down and took her arm to support her.

'I'm all right,' Ida said, although she plainly was not. 'It's the journey. I just need to rest and see your father - and make sure he is well.'

A red mist veiled Mahelt's eyes. They wouldn't be in this position if the Earl had put his family first and his precious treasure second. 'I'm sure he is,' she muttered. 'Let us worry about you first.'

Hugh lifted Ida in his arms and carried her up to the private chamber. He issued rapid orders to the servants to draw back the bed covers, and sent one of them to find his father.

They had put a warm stone at Ida's feet and were tucking the blankets around her when the Earl arrived from his business, his eyes red-rimmed and his face grey and weary. He looked at his wife and pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb.

'Husband,' Ida said with a dry swallow. Mahelt directed a servant to fetch her a drink.

The Earl approached the bedside hesitantly, as if trying to remember something he had forgotten how to do. Reaching down, he took her hand.

'You've had a long journey,' he said. 'Rest now.'

Ida took a few sips from the cup and lay back against the bolsters. 'I just need to sleep,' she whispered. 'I am so tired.'

The Earl held her hand until she closed her eyes, then he gently disengaged and, without looking at anyone else, shouldered from the room. Hugh went after him. Drained and exhausted herself, but knowing she would be unable to sleep even if she did lie down, Mahelt bade the servants keep watch on Ida, and followed the men.

De Longueville was reporting on what had happened at Framlingham and the Earl was looking grim.

'Lenveise should have fought,' Mahelt said, joining them without invitation, treating her inclusion as her right. 'We had the garrison; we had the military resources. I told him to fight.'

'My constable surely knows more of military matters since it has been his training since birth,' her father-in-law said in a reproving tone.

Mahelt tossed her head. 'And I am William Marshal's daughter and my mother held Kilkenny against all who would have seized it.'

'Your mother's constable held Kilkenny,' the Earl retorted. 'Your father may be a great soldier, but even you would grant that you have neither his skills nor his training, and for that matter he has never held a castle against siege. There is more than just soldiering at stake here, madam.'

Mahelt was seething. 'Indeed so, and now the King has seized my son, your grandson. What kind of stakes would you call those?'

'It is unfortunate, I agree.'

'Unfortunate?' Mahelt was so enraged, she gagged on the word.

'Had there been more time we would have evacuated the castle. As it is, the younger ones are free. You and Hugh are both safe, and whole.'

Mahelt was swift to pick up the implication that she and Hugh were out of harm's way and at liberty to breed more children and was incensed. 'But it's hardly a victory,' she spat. 'Does your grandson count for nothing?'

The Earl's brows puckered. 'Daughter, you speak out of turn.'

'I speak as I find,' she said contemptuously.

'Mahelt--' Hugh began but his father cut across him.

'Madam, I suggest you go and tend to your children and take some rest because you are clearly overset. We shall speak when you are in your senses.'

'If I have lost my senses, at least I still have my honour. Think on that!'

Mahelt retorted and, without affording him either curtsey or obeisance, turned on her heel and stalked back to the bedchamber.