Warden of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 8) (20 page)

And as it turned out, he’d been a good choice, having a personality that was both demanding and precise. He also wasn’t averse to using new technologies when he saw with his own eyes that they worked. Military men, whatever their lineage, could appreciate a cannon when they saw one fired.

“He fears the King of France is planning to cross the channel with an invasion army,” she said.

I pressed my lips together. It wasn’t as if Callum and I hadn’t discussed such an invasion earlier this morning. But to hear someone else from outside my circle arrive at the same conclusion when he didn’t have access to the same information I had was disconcerting to say the least. “Why does he think that?”

“His patrol has seen movement along the Seine and in the shipyard at Rouen in France,” she said. “He feels certain that Philip is gathering a fleet, and he believes it prudent to assume that Philip plans to sail towards us and not elsewhere.”

“We must prepare.”

“Sir Stephen has already sent word to the Portsman of Dover to marshal his ships and men,” Lili said. “He hadn’t done it initially, since the first message from Ieuan only talked about the destruction of Canterbury Castle. But the capture of two French spies, Lacy’s news, and what I could tell him about Lee convinced him. If in the end it proves to be a false alarm, so be it.”

“At worst, it will be a good training exercise,” I said.

“At best, you mean,” Lili said. “Otherwise it will be war.”

Chapter Nineteen

I
tipped my head in acknowledgement of Lili’s point. “How come the Order didn’t know this already?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but messenger pigeons can fall afoul of predators or bad weather, and we don’t have as many contacts at the French court as we would like.”

“I wasn’t assuming treachery,” I said, “but I don’t like it that Lacy’s reach is further than mine, and this is the second time the Order has been caught on the hop. Lacy sent a rider, you say?”

“That’s only the beginning,” she said. “Lacy is concerned enough that he is coming himself, bringing whatever ships he can gather quickly, though he says it will take at least three days to arrive here. That’s really what persuaded Sir Stephen to call in the Portsmen—he didn’t want the Cinque Ports shown up by the navy.”

One of the hardest things to adjust to about the Middle Ages was incredibly mundane: things took a long time to happen. Travel was treacherous, weather unpredictable, and communication difficult if not impossible. Nobody knew what anyone else was doing or had done until they managed to connect.

Three days for my navy to muster wasn’t that long to wait, until three days turned into six, or a fortnight. A horse, when pressed, could travel fifty miles a day. It was only twenty miles across the English Channel, but if the weather wasn’t good, no amount of sailing was going to allow Philip to cross it today, tomorrow, or next week. I was suddenly grateful for the rainy summer we’d been experiencing, and for the gray clouds I’d seen to the southwest when I’d been looking at Dover through my binoculars.

“Does he have any indication of where they intend to land?” I said. This was one battle I wanted over before it started. I hadn’t had to kill anyone recently and would prefer not to have to. But it was unlikely that I was going to get what I wanted.

“Lacy is working on it,” she said. “I think he hopes to meet them in the Channel, and thus win the day before they reach our shores.”

“Can these French spies you captured for me help us with this?” I said. “Have they answered any questions yet?”

As when my father and I had prepared for the last battle we’d fought—the one that had ended with the arrival of the modern bus—uncertainty of travel made planning frustrating. It meant that wherever the French landed, we’d be at a disadvantage. They would be landing in a foreign country, but we wouldn’t know exactly where Philip meant to land until he did. Unless, perhaps, we could get these French spies to talk.

Dover was a sophisticated port (for the time), but an invasion army needed a big, sandy beach to land on, preferably not under the watching eyes of the garrison of a massive castle. William the Bastard had landed at Pevensy, thirty-five miles to the southwest of Dover, and Julius Caesar had landed seven miles north, probably at Walmer. When a general decided to make the attempt to conquer England, it was generally best if nobody knew about the invasion in advance, and even better if the actual landing happened far from anyone paying attention. That way, there’d be enough time to unload the luggage, get the horses and men together and in good order, and set off marching for London.

“Carew has them locked in the dungeon,” Lili said. “Didn’t you see him when you came in?”

“Very briefly,” I said. “I came straight to you.”

“When you’re tired, you do tend to get very focused—”

Lili broke off at the sound of multiple heavy boots coming towards us. A moment later, a knock came at the door, and at my welcome, it opened to admit Carew and another man.

“My lord.” Carew gestured to the man who’d accompanied him. “I’m sure you remember Geoffrey de Geneville.”

“Sire.” White haired and slender—and a little stiff from his ride—Geoffrey bent at the waist in a bow, first to me and then to Lili. “My queen, you are as radiant as ever.”

Lili nodded graciously at this bit of courtliness, and I made a motion to raise him up.

Geoffrey came forward while Lili headed towards a side door. She didn’t have to leave, but men like Geoffrey, who weren’t part of my inner circle, weren’t on the same page about what women were good for. She generally kept herself out of my meetings with men like him.

“Carew, please stay,” I said when he showed signs of leaving too.

Carew gave me a short bow and took up a position by the door.

King Edward had trusted Geoffrey de Geneville, heaping accolades and honors upon him. He was of an older generation, born around the same time as my father. He had once held extensive lands in the March, but he’d bestowed them upon his son, Peter, ten years ago. Peter had subsequently lost half of them to my father back in 1285, and then had died in June of this year, leaving Geoffrey with only a granddaughter to inherit all his wealth. My mother had informed me that this granddaughter would one day marry Roger Mortimer, the son of my adviser, Edmund.

That is, she would marry him if things worked out here the way they had in Avalon, which I was really hoping they wouldn’t—not because I objected to the marriage or to Geoffrey, in fact. It was Roger Mortimer I was worried about. Although no future was a given, in Avalon he grew up to be the rebellious baron who’d had an affair with the Queen of England and for a time usurped the throne of King Edward II.

I hadn’t seen Geoffrey since his son died, and though I’d sent a message of condolence, I gave him a nod and said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I hadn’t wanted to make him feel bad or remind him of it, and it seemed those weren’t the first words he expected to come out of my mouth, because he froze for a second. Then he blinked twice and bowed again. “Thank you, sire.”

I nodded. I didn’t have to be as sensitive as Lili to realize that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What brings you to Dover, Geneville?” Last I’d heard, he was doing his grieving at his seat in Trim, Ireland. I found it somewhat ironic to have one of the Norman barons to whom Lee so objected standing before me, live and in color. “And how did you know I was here? We didn’t raise the flag.”

My personal banner always flew from the castle in which I was staying, but Ieuan had suggested we forgo that tradition today. Lee had destroyed one castle. Hopefully, he was very far from here, but I didn’t want anyone to know where I was, not until I heard back from Callum, we’d sorted out more clearly the sequence of events that had led to Canterbury’s destruction, and we’d determined who had been involved in Lee’s conspiracy.

Geoffrey finally looked me in the eye. “I came to Dover with every intention of sailing to my brother in Champagne. I’m sure you know that he is the steward of Champagne for King Philip of France. It is a journey I make once a year if I can. However, we heard on the dock that the harbor patrol had captured two Frenchmen they were calling spies.”

“They did.” It would be common knowledge by now throughout the town and port.

“One of my men is cousin to a portsman here, and when I inquired of him as to their location, he informed me of the trouble that has arisen between you and Philip, and that these men are now in the castle dungeon. I was wondering if I could offer you assistance with … ah … your inquiries in any way.”

I gave a short laugh. Family connections among all classes of society were intertwined.
Cousin
covered a broad spectrum of relationships, and it wasn’t only the Welsh who could recite their ancestry to the seventh generation. I rubbed my chin, feeling the scruff of my unshaven beard, which I hadn’t had a chance to remove. The gesture bought me time while I decided how to respond. It was true that Geoffrey’s long association with King Edward didn’t endear him to me. Edward had trusted him, which meant that I wasn’t convinced I could, but if I spurned barons because of that, I would find myself with few allies within my own court.

I caught Carew’s eye, and he nodded his head infinitesimally. He was suggesting that I proceed, albeit with caution. “What kind of assistance did you have in mind?” I said.

“Have the men spoken yet?” Geoffrey said.

“No,” Carew said.

Geoffrey turned slightly to acknowledge Carew, who came forward. “May I ask what they are being held for?” Geoffrey said.

“Colluding with a traitor on behalf of the King of France,” I said.

Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

Carew said bluntly, “You can’t be unaware of what happened in Canterbury yesterday.”

“I did hear that the papal legate was to meet with King David,” Geoffrey said. “That meeting did not go well?”

I almost laughed again. Geoffrey was giving nothing away and looked genuinely curious. I spun around and headed for my ornate chair, set on a low dais near the back of the room, in a similar arrangement to my demolished receiving room at Canterbury. I found it oddly comforting to think that King Edward had once sat here. I had despised the man in life, but his strength and arrogance—and his ability to face down far more formidable threats than Geoffrey—were something I could draw upon.

Carew answered for me, having followed me with Geoffrey to a spot five paces from my seat. “Cardinal Acquasparta arranged for the arrest of an accused heretic, who was brought to the Archbishop’s Palace while he and the Archbishops of York and Canterbury were meeting with King David. Matters quickly grew tense, and it was only the king’s quick action that prevented a full-scale riot.”

Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond immediately, either with outrage, surprise, or even interest. It was as I would have expected from a man of his age who’d spent his life around the English court. He had to resent being shunted aside in favor of younger (and, to his mind, lesser) men, but he had never shown it. He’d been in Ireland during the events of 1288 that had led to my crowning. Since Ireland lacked good cell phone reception in the Middle Ages, he’d missed out on them entirely. Once he’d returned, he’d bowed his neck and given me homage for his lands, as was his duty.

“I see,” he said, after a few more seconds of deliberation. “There is precedent for matters of the Church remaining within the Church.”

“I will not allow the prosecution of heretics—or the massacre of Jews, for that matter—in my England.” My tone was flat and without inflection.

Geoffrey recognized it, as he should have, as the voice of a king, and one that no man was to argue with, even if he thought I was an uncouth Welsh upstart who had no right to the crown I wore. He nodded and said, “Unrest creates difficulties for us all. Best to avoid arousing the passions of the populace.”

Carew cleared his throat, stepping into the fray again. “It is good you agree.”

“May I ask what this has to do with King Philip?” Geoffrey said.

“Before the incident with the heretic, Cardinal Acquasparta put to me three requests from Pope Boniface: he asked me to allow the Church to prosecute heretics; he requested that I return the proceeds from the
taxatio—”

That actually got a raised eyebrow from Geoffrey.

“— and His Holiness also asked that I withdraw my claim to Aquitaine,” I said.

Geoffrey pressed his lips together for a second in a brief sign of displeasure, and then said, “You are understandably loath to do so. Is it your thought that the Frenchmen you have incarcerated were here to influence the papal legate in some way?”

For a moment, I struggled to reply. Geoffrey was being neither standoffish nor unhelpful as I might have expected. He appeared genuinely interested in advising me, like a grandfather expressing interest in a respected grandchild. “It has crossed my mind. If you are willing to assist me as you said, that would be something I’d like them to tell me. At the moment, however, I’m more concerned about the destruction of Canterbury Castle last night.”

I was watching him carefully as I spoke, and at last Geoffrey allowed a real reaction to show on his face and let out a
whuf
of surprise. “Pardon me, sire, if I misunderstand. Did you say Canterbury Castle is destroyed?”

“The keep is little more than rubble,” I said. “We escaped with no lives lost thanks to an observant soldier and God’s grace. You had not heard this on the dock too?”

“No.” Geoffrey’s face flushed for a moment, in embarrassment or perhaps anger at being caught unawares. I was impressed that the portsmen he’d spoken to had been so close-mouthed. “Do you think these Frenchmen might have had something to do with this tragedy as well as the pope’s query about Aquitaine?”

“We know the traitor responsible,” Carew said, “and it has been reported that he met with Frenchmen beforehand.”

“And since you have Frenchmen in custody, and you suspect them of being King Philip’s men, you are wondering if it was they who met with the traitor. Perhaps you also wonder if this traitor serves Philip directly?” Geoffrey said.