Winter Song (19 page)

Raymond had sobered and considered her suggestion seriously.
“Yes.” He nodded emphatically after another moment’s thought. “And if you stay,
we need not chance—however slim the possibility—that Rustengo’s suspicion of
Calhau’s visit, which I am sure will come to his ears, will cause some unwanted
action on his part. You can go to him tomorrow in my stead. Tell him where I have
gone and why—there is no harm in Rustengo knowing the whole matter of Marsan
and Benquel, and he will feel pleased that I confide my business to him. As to
Calhau’s visit, speak the truth, that I wanted him to know of it and to know
that Calhau has still made no definite proposals nor uttered threats. No more
than smooth talk passed between us. About the cattle and the bailiff, you may
say what you like.”

So it was decided, and Raymond departed at first light,
hoping that the roads would be good enough for him to reach Benquel by dusk. He
took only five men, with Hugo to lead them. To Alys’s protests he replied with
laughter, pointing out that no less than an army could help him if Sir Oliver
meant treachery, and if he took more than five to guard against thieves and
rogues, he might make trouble by implying distrust.

I must stop acting like a hen with one chick
, Alys
told herself severely as she set the tasks for the day.
I was not forever
telling Papa to be careful. Raymond is a man grown, and in his own territory,
too
. These strictures helped a little, but Alys knew she would need an
absorbing concern to stop herself from fretting. Thus, as soon as she had set
all to work, she changed to her richest riding dress, ordered Aelfric to keep
Blancheforte closed against all intruders as Hugo had done the previous day,
and rode to Bordeaux accompanied by Arnald and five men-at-arms.

They had no trouble finding their way, for Raymond’s
instructions had been explicit. Rustengo was waiting for her, having been prepared
by a note from Raymond the day before, and Alys’s meeting with him was
pleasanter by far than Raymond’s had been. Alys had no more to do than act the
obedient wife, and she was accustomed to a stream of well-meant advice
delivered in a voice of authority. So, naturally, this did not raise Alys’s
hackles as it had raised Raymond’s, although she had even less intention of
taking any advice that did not suit her purposes.

Alys had one real surprise, however. Had she not known
Rustengo was only a cousin to Raymond and not close, she would have guessed
they were father and son. There was a great likeness in looks and voice between
them. Alys wondered naughtily whether Raymond’s mama—whom she had reason enough
to think ill of from Raymond’s tales—had known Rustengo too well before Raymond’s
conception. It was, of course, impossible, and even if it were not, it did not
matter to Alys.

All that mattered to her was that she had achieved her ends.
First she explained Raymond’s mission and described Calhau’ s visit, seeing at
once that Raymond had judged his kinsman correctly. From that vantage point,
she managed to insinuate into Rustengo’s mind the notion that Raymond’s new
need to be treated with deference was owing to his desire to impress her. It
was a perfectly harmless bit of conceit, even endearing in a young man, that
would keep Rustengo polite and encourage greater harmony between the kinsmen.
Additionally, Alys suggested that Raymond’s conversations with her implied that
all his natural instincts were in support of the de Soler party. Though Alys
did not say it, Rustengo saw for himself that to urge Raymond to support his
natural friends implied a lack of faith. Rustengo began to look thoughtful.

Alys chattered on about “Uncle Richard”, correcting herself
to say “the Earl of Cornwall” with a deliberate blush that drew questions.
These permitted her to explain, with suitable hesitations and further blushes, her
relationship with Richard of Cornwall in such a way that she would not seem to
be boasting. To do that, Alys knew, might throw doubt on the validity of the
claim of long and enduring friendship. And yes, of course she knew the king
very well, Alys replied to another question, her complexion now normal despite
the lie.

“Although, perhaps, I should not say that,” she went on, “for
he is a most difficult man to know. I do not mean he is haughty or
unapproachable, but he does not show what is in his mind, except, perhaps, to
Eleanor—oh, heaven, I mean Queen Eleanor. Please forgive my unruly tongue. She
is Raymond’s aunt, you know—how funny that is, for she is only the elder by a
month and they were playmates as children. He always speaks of her as Eleanor,
and I have caught it.”

“The queen has the king’s ear, then?” Rustengo asked.

“Yes, and his heart, too,” Alys replied ingenuously, wondering
whether Rustengo’s question was a trap. Eleanor had been in Bordeaux with
Henry, and Rustengo must have seen the king’s devotion—unless he was already
out of favor and not invited.
Tread carefully
, Alys warned herself. “Sometimes
King Henry is constrained to do harsh things,” she continued, “but the queen
wins him softly back to the best path. The thing is, like all kings—and even
more so in Henry’s case because he came to be king so young, only twelve—he
cannot bear to be forced. To do violence against his will…” Alys shook her
head. “He will never forgive nor forget, not even for the queen’s sake. And,” she
widened her eyes, “you will not betray me if I speak what is in my mind, even
if it is not all flattering to the king?”

“You may be sure I will keep your confidence.”

“Well, then, King Henry has such pride that he cannot bear
to admit he was wrong in anything. He may know it in his heart, and then he
will set about to amend the wrong, but it must come about in such a way that
the world will not see he has deliberately changed his path to mend a mistake.”

Alys told several anecdotes to drive home those two points,
that Henry did not forget or forgive violence against him and that he resorted
to devious methods to restore the correct balance when he had made a mistake.
None of the stories had anything to do with Bordeaux, of course, nor even with
a situation similar to that in Bordeaux—to be too pertinent, Alys thought,
would be dangerous—but the stories were illustrative of Henry’s set of mind,
and they were quite true. Alys had a huge fund of stories about the king
gleaned from his brother’s discussions with her father.

Then Alys set about making sure Rustengo believed her
ignorant of his plans by relating everything she had said to Master Ernaldus. “The
trouble he gave me,” she exclaimed. “The filth! The stench! And the people so
starved that they had not the strength to clean properly. And they all say this
Master Ernaldus ordered that Blancheforte be dirty and ruinous. Perhaps they
were lying out of fear, but he certainly gave them no order to clean. Oh, and
do forgive me, I had almost forgot to thank you for giving my husband dinner
that day. It was so kind of you and a great favor to us, for there was nothing
fit for him to eat.”

“You should have come, also,” Rustengo said, smiling with
real affection and thinking that if he had seen young Raymond preening before
this pretty bird of a wife, he would not have made the mistake of talking to
him as if he were still a boy. “You should have come to stay with me. You would
have been most welcome.”

“So Raymond said. It was my fault we did not come. I was
afraid to impose unannounced guests and twenty-one men also. Then, too,
Blancheforte is part of my dower. It would be wrong if it were a drain on my
husband’s purse instead of a gain to him. And even beyond that, I do not like
to be cheated. When Raymond writes to the king and queen, I will ask him to
complain for me of Master Ernaldus’s doing and tell them of their bailiff’s
dishonesty.” Alys allowed an expression of spite to show on her face. “I would
not take the chance of avenging myself on a servant of the king because King
Henry might take offense at such presumption. But I will have my revenge
nonetheless. I know King Henry. He will see that Master Ernaldus suffers for
cheating him.”

So Raymond writes to the king
, Rustengo thought,
and
sits on the council
. And, knowing Raymond, Rustengo was sure he had told
the king he was kinsman to the de Solers. Henry, then, must know Raymond was
unlikely to damage his own interests by telling tales of those bound to him in
blood. Insensibly, Rustengo’s mind took the path Alys had laid out for it to
the conclusion that Henry now must regard his alliance with the Coloms as a
mistake and, by giving Raymond a place in the council of Bordeaux, might be
seeking a way to back out of that arrangement and to renewing his connection
with the de Solers.

Rustengo had already begun to reconsider inciting massive
violence in the city. Raymond had virtually refused to raise the questions that
would set the spark to that action, and Rustengo did not have another suitable
pawn available. Now he began to think that it might be worth a few months or a
year—provided Calhau and his party made no aggressive moves against him—to work
more subtly and see whether the king would place the power back in his hands
where it belonged.

Not that he would sit with folded hands, of course. There
was much that could be done to undermine the Coloms and make the guildsmen of
the town dissatisfied with their rule. But there was no need for violence, not
yet, even though the seneschal’s preoccupation with Navarre made the
opportunity riper, in that he could not react fully. Still, in another sense
the threat from Navarre increased the danger. Violence now might be called
treason in time of war. De Molis would not hold the reins long. He was already
bitter over the burden. A better opportunity might occur when a new man was
appointed, especially if he was a fool. In any case Navarre and Béarn would not
give up easily. They would cause plenty of trouble at other times.

Violence, Rustengo thought, was a weapon that could be used
at any time. Moreover, it would look more natural, less suspicious, if more
time had elapsed between the violence and the change of administration. It
would give a chance for dissatisfaction, real and incited, to grow. Indeed,
Rustengo thought, Raymond’s girl-wife had a point, even though she probably did
not know she had made it. Rustengo was remembering events ten years past of
which he had heard from the previous seneschal, Turbeville. Henry did have a
long and vindictive memory.

Rustengo had meanwhile been replying with half a mind to
Alys’s remarks about Master Ernaldus. Finally, when she changed to the topic of
supplies for Blancheforte, Rustengo sent out with her the clerk who purchased
his own supplies. After she was gone, however, the thought of Ernaldus returned
to him. He did not like the man—a baseborn bastard of a cousin who had been
irresponsible enough to acknowledge the child, have him raised in the
household, and then not provide for him in any way. Still, Ernaldus was a
connection, even though the cousin was dead. Rustengo sighed and sent a servant
to tell the bailiff to come to the house as soon as possible.

Not surprisingly, Ernaldus was not at home when Rustengo’s
message was delivered, however, he arrived at Rustengo’s house soon after
dinner. With characteristic lack of tact—men of power do not need to be tactful
to inferiors they do not like—Rustengo told Ernaldus that it would be wise for
him to leave. Not only to leave Bordeaux, but to leave Gascony.

“You will do better,” Rustengo said, “where the hand of the king
of England cannot reach. I think it is too late for restitution.”

It had occurred to Rustengo, once he considered the problem,
that this would be an excellent opportunity to rid the family altogether of a
member who could only do them harm. He certainly did not want attention drawn
to the bailiff’s dishonesty by an attempt to buy peace. Furthermore, such an
attempt might frighten away Ernaldus’s other patrons so that, as head of the
family, Rustengo would be saddled with the responsibility of a pauper Ernaldus.

“If you try to restore what you have stolen from the king,”
Rustengo continued, “others will begin to look to their accounts, and no matter
how honest those are, they will be dissatisfied and believe you have robbed
them.”

“Lady Alys,” Ernaldus hissed, so enraged that he did not
even attempt to deny the theft of which he was accused.

“Yes. I have tried to reason with her,” Rustengo averred
most untruthfully, “but it was impossible. Moreover, she had already spoken to
Calhau. You would have had to leave Bordeaux in any case. Calhau will leap at
the chance to do the de Solers harm by exposing you. My advice is to change all
the goods and property you can for gold, take that, and go into France or
Navarre. With the money in hand, you will have no trouble in establishing
yourself. A change of name might help also, and an honorable reason for leaving
home.”

“But I did not intend to cheat them,” Ernaldus groaned,
hoping to find a way out in spite of what Rustengo said. “I had a fine house
all readied for them in the town. I had the money ready. I told her—”

“She took it amiss that the serfs were starved,” Rustengo
said dryly, interrupting an outpouring he did not believe and in which he was
not at all interested.

For a moment surprise blotted out Ernaldus’s rage and fear. “Why?”
he protested. “What does it matter? There are always more of those animals than
anyone needs. Feed them, and they grow more numerous and starve in the end
anyway.”

“Women take notions.” Rustengo was still not interested.

“But surely Lord Raymond is not such a fool,” Ernaldus
cried. “If I explained the matter to him—”

“In the first place, he is not in Blancheforte,” Rustengo interrupted
again. “He has gone to Marsan for one or two nights. In the second place, I
would not count on his support. He and Lady Alys are new-wed, and she is both
rich and
very
beautiful. In the third place, it is, as I have already
told you, too late. Lady Alys has already spoken to Calhau.” Rustengo knew Alys
had asked the mayor not to prosecute, but he had grown enamored of the idea of
being rid of Ernaldus, who was boring him. “Thus, even if you could convince
Lord Raymond to prevent his wife from complaining to the king or her powerful
relatives, which I do not think you can do, Calhau will still certainly expose
your so-called dishonesty to ingratiate himself with King Henry.”