Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “But Val is the law in Hampshire, which includes Winchester,” Hugh pointed out. “It is his duty to carry out the king’s arrest warrants when they are issued from Winchester Castle. As unsavory as this is, Val has no choice.”

  Calum knew that. He looked back at the warrant, still in his hand, and sighed heavily. “The church’s anger will not be directed at Henry for this,” he muttered. “It will be directed at Val. It was very clever of the king to order another man to do his dirty work.”

  Hugh was aware. He’d said the same thing, essentially, and therefore struggled against the guilt of it. It was he who was putting Val’s neck on the line in the name of justice, not Henry. But he still stuck to the belief that Henry had ordered this; all of the four of the knights still did – him, FitzUrse, le Breton, and de Tracy. They all were still under the firm belief that Henry had ordered Canterbury arrested. Therefore, he pushed aside the guilt.

  It had to be done.

  “It is the wish of the king, little brother,” Hugh said with resignation. “We are not to question him. We simply carry out his commands. Agreed?”

  Calum didn’t look convinced but he nodded nonetheless. “Agreed,” he said begrudgingly. Then, he stood up and went to Val’s table, putting the warrant on it. “Val should be home soon. Will you not stay and greet him?”

  Hugh shook his head. “The four of us intend to go on ahead of Val to Canterbury and attempt to talk Becket into peacefully surrendering,” he said. “There is no time to waste on the king’s order, so we must go today. As soon as Val arrives, he is to follow us. We shall procure rooms at the West Gate Inn. Hopefully, by the time he arrives in Canterbury, we will already have Becket in our custody. It is our hope that the man will not put up a fight.”

  From what Calum knew of Thomas Becket, that would not be an easy thing. “He will not surrender,” he said. “The man has been in contention with Henry for years. What makes you think he will peacefully surrender to you?”

  Hugh stood up from the chair, stretching his body as he did so. “Because we will tell him that Val de Nerra is coming for him,” he said simply. “If he does not wish to be confronted by a man who can use a sword better than almost anyone in England, then it would be in his best interest to surrender peacefully.”

  Calum cocked his head curiously. “So you are using Val as a threat?”

  “It is a good threat.”

  Hugh winked at his brother when he said it, which caused a resurgence of Calum’s shock. So they were going to threaten Canterbury with violence from the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire if the man did not surrender? That was putting Val in an extremely precarious position that he wasn’t even aware of yet. Val’s world was about to change dramatically and the man had no idea. Calum felt a great deal of pity for him.

  “Then I am sorry you cannot be here to tell Val the course his life is about to take,” he said. “If I did not know better, I would think you were cowardly in leaving so soon. It is as if you do not want to face Val with this.”

  Those words would have had swords drawn had they come from anyone else, but Hugh didn’t draw his sword, mostly because what Calum said was true. But he would not acknowledge that. He simply reached out and patted his brother on the cheek.

  “Tell Val that he must come to Canterbury immediately,” he said evenly. “We will see him there.”

  Calum watched his brother leave the solar, a rather baleful expression on his face. He didn’t even acknowledge FitzUrse, le Breton, or de Tracy. He thought they were all cowardly for dropping the warrant and then departing for Canterbury. It felt very much as if they were fleeing, as Calum had said; men who didn’t want to face Val because of the seriousness of the situation. Much like Henry, they were pushing off the responsibility to Val.

  Now, it would be Val who would intervene in perhaps the most volatile situation in England at the moment. He would literally be putting himself between the king and the church, a place that no man wanted to be. Two powerful factions vying for control of the country, two very stubborn institutions that refused to give ground, now with Val caught between them.

  It was more than likely going to tear Val apart.

  Calum fervently hoped not.

  ‡

  It was close to sunset by the time Val reached Selborne.

  Usually, the sight of his fortress brought him great comfort, but not tonight. Looking at the structure, all he could feel was emptiness. No Vesper, no joy. The last time he was here, she was here and he’d become quite smitten with the lovely young woman. Odd how even her short stay here had somehow impressed itself on him until all he could think of was the evening they’d shared in the great hall, with feasting and music. Precious hours he’d spent with her, not realizing they might be his last.

  As he approached the gatehouse, the sentries on duty began to take up the call and the iron gates were opened. Men with torches were moving about, greeting him in the dark passageway beneath the gatehouse, taking the horses from him as he headed across the bailey.

  It was relatively quiet in the bailey at this time of night. Men were being fed in the great hall and patrols were on the walls, the flickering torches warding off the darkness. There was very little activity in the bailey itself. Val made his way up the steps of the keep, slowly, his mind heavy with the sorrow of the past two days. This wasn’t something he was used to and he was, therefore, having difficulty dealing with it. Just as he reached the top of the steps, a figure appeared in the doorway.

  “So you have finally returned,” Margaretha said. “Where have you been?”

  Val looked at his mother, feeling a stab of shame and sorrow. There was so much he had to tell her. In spite of the fact that she could be harsh and antagonistic, she also had the ability to be wise and calm. She had helped him through many a crisis with her sage advice. He trusted her.

  “I took McCloud and Lady Vesper to Bishop’s Waltham,” he said, his tone dull. “I had not expected to go so far with them, but it was a good thing that I did. Come inside, Mother. I must speak with you.”

  Curious at her son’s tone, Margaretha permitted him to take her by the arm and turn her around, entering the keep and heading for the small hall beyond. Already, she could feel his sorrowful mood.

  “Valor, what is the matter?” she asked. “Why do you sound as if you have been beaten?”

  Val could only shake his head. The dimly lit small hall greeted them and Val released his mother, heading straight for the pitcher of wine on the table. He didn’t bother to collect a cup; he drank straight from the pitcher, great gulps of the sweet red wine. Margaretha stood by the table, watching him with increasing concern.

  “Valor?” she asked, her voice considerably softer. “What has happened? Please tell me.”

  Val took another gulp of wine. He didn’t seem apt to look her in the eye. “You were right,” he said quietly. “About McCloud, I mean. You were right in your assessment of his character and I was wrong. I knew the man from years ago when he had honor. You saw that the man before you had none. You were correct about that, Mother.”

  Margaretha, surprisingly, wasn’t one to gloat, not when the mood was as heady as it was. She was wise enough to know that there was no point. “Sit down,” she said softly. “Tell me what happened.”

  Val did as he was told but he kept a firm grip on the wine pitcher. After a moment, he snorted ironically. “I hardly know where to start,” he said. “It seems that McCloud has changed much over the years. His farm has fallen into poverty and he and his son were starving. His son, being a simple-minded man with no sense of right or wrong, proceeded to go out into the countryside to kill people and take their food. This has been going on for a solid year, evidently, and the locals down in Bishop’s Waltham had taken to calling this murderer the Angel of Death. McCloud hid that from me, all of it. But that is not the worst part.”

  Margaretha was listening with growing horror and struggling not to show it. “How did you discover this?”

  Val
looked at her, then. “When we entered Bishop’s Waltham yesterday, as it is only a short distance from McCloud’s farm, the locals had captured their Angel of Death. It seems that while McCloud was gone, his son killed again, this time two children, and he was discovered. By the time we got there, he’d been restrained and the town was going mad over the capture. That prompted McCloud’s confession. Or, shall I say, Vesper’s confession.”

  Margaretha swallowed hard. “Sweet Mary,” she breathed. “She was complicit as well?”

  Val shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Not complicit. She had only just found out about her brother’s activities when McCloud recently visited her at Eynsford. That is why they were coming home; Vesper thought she could stop whatever was happening. I feel a good deal of pity for the lass, in truth; she enjoyed a good reputation at Eynsford as a trusted woman of character, and then she finds herself part of a family of murderers. She thought she could fix the problem, as she put it, but it was bigger than she imagined. It was she who confessed the situation when it became obvious that both she and McCloud knew the man known as the Angel of Death.”

  Margaretha was truly astonished by the tale. “What did you do?” she asked. “Did you punish them all?”

  Val shook his head. Then, he downed what was left in the wine pitcher, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Not all of them,” he said. “I had a confession from the murderer and eye witness accounts from people who saw him kill the children in his most recent killing spree. Based on that, I executed him on the spot. I will deal with McCloud at a later time; I simply didn’t have the will to do it. Discovering a longtime friend was an accessory to murder has not settled well with me. Worse still, he was evidently plotting to marry you for your money and marry Vesper to me so he and his son would never have to worry about food or money again. Even though you are a handsome woman, Mother, McCloud was trying to manipulate you. And I let him. I should have protected you against it and I did not.”

  Margaretha was disappointed to hear that. Not disappointment in her son, but disappointed that she no longer had a male suitor. She had been rather pleased about that, in truth. It had been a very long time since a man paid her flattery but now to discover it had been with an ulterior motive in mind was disheartening.

  “As you said, you saw the noble man you used to know,” she said, trying to sound as if McCloud’s flattery had not affected her. “You did not know what he had become, Val, although I tried… well, I will not say that I tried to warn you. Even I could not imagine how horrific your friend’s life had become. But I am sorry for you. I know he was your friend.”

  Val just sat and stared into space, the wine in his veins starting to have some effect. It was giving him a bit of a foggy head, which he’d hoped for. Perhaps it would dull his angst.

  “People change,” he said. “Did you not tell me that? You were right.”

  Margaretha wasn’t going to confirm something he already knew. “What of Lady Vesper?” she asked. “What became of her?”

  Val sighed heavily; that question seemed to affect him even more than the situation with McCloud. “She has returned to Eynsford,” he said with sadness. “She is under the opinion that it would not do for me to be keeping company with a woman from a family of murderers. She feels that by my courting her, it will destroy my reputation. She is afraid of what people will think.”

  Margaretha was rather surprised to hear that. It spoke to her of a young woman who was more ethical than her father and more level-headed than her son. She knew Val was smitten with the girl; that had been obvious. He was thinking emotionally. But she tried to be sympathetic.

  “And you?” she asked quietly. “What do you think?”

  His jaw ticked faintly. “It is not her fault that her brother killed and her father let him,” he said. “She had no part in it. I still intend to court her, Mother. You may not want to hear that, but it is my intention. She has gone back to Eynsford, at her request, and I am to stay away from her for a time so we can each decide if we want to continue this courtship. I have already made my decision.”

  “It was her decision that you should stay away from her?”

  “Aye. She does not believe that I am thinking clearly on how a relationship with her will affect my future and my reputation.”

  Margaretha was starting to like Vesper. She’d truly not had much contact with the young woman but hearing that she’d been most reasonable in this situation, Margaretha approved. Whether or not she actually approved of the woman herself was another matter, but at least she approved of her decision making. She had a feeling, however, that Val didn’t want to hear that.

  After a moment, she stood up.

  “Then mayhap it is for the best, if only for a short time,” she said. “I agree with your lady, Valor – mayhap some time apart will help you see things more clearly.”

  Val’s thoughts were on Vesper, of the last time he saw her in the early morning light. “Did you hear me?” he asked. “I still intend to court her.”

  “I heard you.”

  “But you do not agree?”

  “It does not matter if I do or not. You will do as you wish.”

  That was true. Val was grateful that at least she wasn’t arguing with him. She had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout his sordid tale but he took that as a blessing. He wasn’t sure he could have handled anything else other than an ear to listen.

  “She is a good woman, Mother,” he said quietly. “I do not want the actions of her father and brother to mar your opinion of her. She had not seen them for years prior to this incident and knew nothing.”

  “I understand.”

  He didn’t like the way she said it. There was judgement in her tone in spite of her words. He turned to look at her as she went to summon a servant, no doubt for food. “Shall I have Lady Eynsford come and tell you of the Vesper she knows? Lady Eynsford is quite fond of her.”

  Margaretha sent the servant to the kitchens and turned to her son. “Mayhap in time,” she said. “But there is no need at this moment. Let us eat and then you shall sleep. You need rest.”

  He did. In fact, he was too tired to argue with her about anything. He’d told her what he needed to say and now there was an odd sense of emptiness because of it, emptiness because his usually controlled world had veered out of control. The excitement he’d built up over the past few days about Vesper had taken an unhappy turn. Perhaps when he’d eaten and slept, his mother could help him sift through the situation for a resolution. Wearily, he stood up from the table.

  “Then I shall change my clothes and wash,” he said. “As I recall, I am not allowed to eat at your table looking like a filthy animal.”

  “I will make you eat in the stables if that is the case.”

  That brought a grin to his weary lips. “I do adore you, you cruel woman,” he said. “I will return shortly.”

  He was barely to the chamber door when he saw Calum enter the keep, heading in his direction. Calum was moving very swiftly.

  “Val,” he said, both relief and a sense of urgency in his tone. “I was just told that you had returned.”

  Val came to a pause, weaving about in his exhaustion. “Aye,” he said. “I am going to eat sup and go to bed. I did not sleep last night.”

  Calum shook his head. “I must speak with you before you do,” he said. “Did your mother tell you that Hugh came this morning?”

  Val frowned. “Hugh?” he repeated, surprised. “Your brother?”

  “Aye.”

  “Where in the hell has he been?”

  Calum could see that Margaretha had not told her son anything and he was frustrated. Although he had not told Margaretha the contents of the missive, still, she knew that Henry had sent her son a message. Calum thought the lady might have placed some importance on that.

  “He came with a missive of great importance to you from the king,” he said. “It is in your solar.”

  That seemed to snap Val o
ut of some of his weariness. “Henry has sent me a missive?” he said, suddenly agitated. “Well, Christ – why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  He spun on his heel, heading back into the solar where his mother still lingered. He looked at her accusingly.

  “Why did you not tell me I received a missive from Henry?” he asked.

  Margaretha looked straight at Calum. “Because it has not yet come up,” she said, her anger at Calum obvious. “Clearly, you have returned home with much on your mind and Hugh’s visit this morning was not a priority. I was going to tell you once you’d had a chance to wash and eat something. Whatever Henry has sent you can wait, Valor. You cannot do anything about it tonight.”

  Calum, surprisingly, didn’t back away. “It is imperative, Lady de Nerra,” he said as if to remind her. Then, he looked at Val. “In your solar, Val. I have much to tell you.”

  Leaving Margaretha irritated that Calum would agitate her exhausted son, the knights quickly moved past the woman and into the short corridor that led to Val’s solar. The chamber was dimly lit, only by embers from the dying fire, and Calum went to light a bank of tallow tapers as Val headed straight to the table.

  “That one,” Calum pointed out the one that was unrolled, right in front of him. “See Henry’s seal on the bottom?”

  Val did. He snatched it, bringing it over to the tapers that had just been lit, giving forth their soft warm glow into the chamber. Calum watched his face as he read it; he read it once, twice, and then just stared at it. After a moment, he lowered the missive and looked at Calum with an odd expression on his face – something between disbelief and horror.

  “God’s Bones,” he hissed. “I take it that you read this?”

  Calum nodded solemnly. “Hugh told me to,” he said. “Henry has ordered you to arrest the Archbishop of Canterbury because you are the law in Hampshire, where the missive was written and where the trial shall be carried out. Hugh brought FitzUrse, le Breton, and de Tracy with him and they have already gone ahead to Canterbury to talk the man into surrendering peacefully before you get there. But we know he will not. My God, Val… what has Henry put you in the middle of? If Canterbury refuses, Henry will blame you and if he complies, the Church will blame you because you arrested him. What are you going to do?”