Caging the Lyon

by H A CULLEY

  At first there was no response but after two minutes the shutter was cautiously opened and Marianne’s head appeared.

  ‘Robert?’ she queried. ‘What on earth are you doing here? Don’t you know that there is a price of a hundred marks on your head?’

  ‘Only a hundred?’ he whispered back ‘how disappointing. I was certain that it would be five hundred by now.’

  Marianne giggled then looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘My husband’s a light sleeper so you had better leave before he awakes.’

  ‘Are you well? Does he treat you alright? I can’t image that sleeping with him is much fun.’

  Marianne looked shocked. ‘Robert, that’s not a proper question to ask me. Now go away.’

  ‘Not unless you come with me.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m a married woman. However badly Gervase treats me, I can’t leave him.’

  ‘He treats you badly? That settles it. You’re coming with me.’

  ‘What makes you think I would want to?’

  ‘The fact that you are still here whispering to me instead of calling for your men-at-arms.’

  ‘Hmmm. Perhaps. But we can’t afford any,’ she added, referring to the men-at-arms.

  ‘Then we have nothing to fear. Meet me outside and let me take you away from all this.’

  ‘To where? A hovel in the woods?’

  ‘Not even that. A cave. But I’ll build you a fine house, if you like.’

  Marianne looked behind her anxiously. ‘Gervase is waking up. Now go away.’ With that she shut the shutter quietly.

  Robert rode back to Sherwood in thoughtful mood and the next day he and his men started to build a stout wooden palisade on a small plateau not far from the caves so they could construct houses inside the compound for the increasing number of families being attracted to his band of outlaws. Once they finished the houses for the four families they currently had the men built a hall house with a solar: the hall for the single men and the solar for Robert. Then they constructed several defensive towers around the palisade.

  ‘It’s just like a manor except everyone is a freeman,’ John remarked with satisfaction when it was finished.

  ‘Hmm. Now all I need is the lady of the manor,’ Robert winked at him.

  ~#~

  Richard de Cuille found the castle at Wooler cramped and uncomfortable after Otterburn. It hadn’t changed much since the original motte and bailey castle was built over eighty years ago. A wooden tower sat atop the steep sided earth mound surrounded by a wooden palisade enclosing several timber or wattle and daub buildings. The small township of Wooler stretched to the west of the castle along the base of the Cheviot foothills. He shared a small dormitory with the other six squires serving the knights in Robert Muschamp’s mesnie. As the newest squire Richard got all the unpopular chores, such as emptying the night soil buckets onto the midden heap.

  Lord Robert de Muschamp was a fair master, if a somewhat strict one, and he enjoyed the training. Robert was thirty, having succeeded his father, the first baron of Wooler, three years previously. Richard had been taught swordsmanship since he was six, starting with light wooden blades and working his way up to a proper sword, albeit a smaller one than those used by knights, by the time he finished as a page at Alnwick. Pages were essentially servants to the lady of the castle who were employed to wait at table, take messages and run errands. In return they were taught how a castle and a manor was managed, learned etiquette and started their military training, especially how to ride using just the knees to control the horse and the basics of handling weapons.

  As a squire he looked after Lord Robert’s war horses, his armour and his weapons in addition to continuing his military training. He was the youngest by two years but he found that he could ride as well as any of the others and could usually hold his own with sword and shield against the two sixteen year olds with whom he usually practiced.

  He was happy and content until Lord Robert sent for him on a particularly wet day in June 1161. He was surprised to see his father sitting with his master at the high table in the great hall. He wasn’t invited to sit, which wasn’t unexpected but Richard did begin to wonder what he might have done wrong. However, instead of being given a dressing down his father enquired how he was getting on and whether he liked being at Wooler. It wasn’t like Hugh de Cuille to make small talk to his son and Richard smelt bad news in the air.

  ‘What do you think of Claire?’ suddenly Robert cut across the mindless chatter between father and son.

  Richard was taken aback. Claire was Robert’s seven year old daughter who he had rarely seen and certainly hadn’t paid any attention to.

  ‘Claire, my lord?’ he asked bemused. He might just as well have asked if Richard thought that his six year old son, Thomas, would make a good knight.

  ‘Yes, Claire,’ Robert said impatiently. ‘She is only seven now but she will be fourteen when you are old enough to be knighted so you could marry her then.’

  ‘Marry?’ Nothing had been further from Richard’s mind.

  ‘Yes, Lord Robert and I thought that the two of you would make a good match, cementing the relationship between our families. We have agreed that you can become betrothed now and get married once you are knighted.’ His father smiled at Richard as if he thought that this was the most tremendous news.

  ‘Betrothed? Marry? Father, I hardly know the girl; and she is just a little child.’

  ‘But she’ll grow fast enough and be a beauty, if she is anything like her mother.’ Robert said with a finality that indicated that the matter was settled.

  Richard narrowed his eyes and glared at his father. ‘I know you married the daughter of your master when you were a squire, father, but I seem to recall that you were in love with my mother; still are come to that. I’m not in love with Claire – there would be something wrong if I was. I’ll find my own wife, thank you.’ Without waiting to be dismissed, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the great hall leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him.

  ‘I’m really sorry about that, Robert. I’ll speak to him ……’ Hugh started to say but Robert got up so suddenly that his chair fell over and stormed out of the hall without a word.

  Hugh went in search of his son but nothing he could say made any difference.

  ‘I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you Richard,’ his father said eventually. ‘You had better go and pack your things. You’ll be coming back to Otterburn with me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Richard was stunned. ‘I’m Lord Robert’s squire. My place is here.’

  ‘You don’t honestly think he would keep you on after the way you have humiliated him, do you?’ Hugh’s tone was scathing.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think.’

  ‘No you didn’t. Even if the thought horrified you, the sensible course would have been to bite your tongue and seek a way out of the betrothal in due course. You never know, you might have even come to love the girl. I don’t know what I am going to do with you now.’

  ‘Would it help if I apologised?’

  ‘I doubt it very much, but it can’t do any harm I suppose.’ Hugh thought for a moment. ‘I’ll leave it for an hour or so then I’ll go and speak to him.’

  ‘We could have played that better.’ Hugh remarked to Robert when he found him some time later talking to his head huntsman near the dog kennels. The sky was still overcast but at least the rain had stopped.

  ‘What? Oh, you’re still here then. I thought you would have taken that impudent puppy of yours out of my sight long since.’

  ‘Can I speak to you about it, Robert?’ Hugh spoke quietly but firmly.

  The other man shrugged and dismissed his huntsman. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘How did you come to be betrothed to your wife?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ He thought for a moment. ‘My father took me to one side and explained the advantages of an alliance with her family, who are influential in Lincolnshire where my uncle’s estate is
.’

  ‘And what was your reaction?’

  ‘I wanted to see the girl first, I wasn’t about to marry a harridan – but Richard has seen Claire plenty of times.’

  ‘But he has hardly viewed her as a potential wife; not at the age of seven.’

  ‘I suppose we did spring it on him a bit,’ Robert mused. ‘But his reaction was totally unacceptable.’ His anger was beginning to return.

  ‘Yes, he realises that and he wants to apologise.’

  ‘Huh. And that will make things alright, will it? No, I’m sorry Hugh but I no longer see Richard as a suitable husband for Claire.’

  ‘Is there any rush to make that decision? I suspect that I was wrong to push for a betrothal now, when they are both so young. What does Claire think about the match by the way?’

  ‘Claire? She doesn’t know. There’s plenty of time to….’ His voice trailed away. ‘Hmm. Very clever.’ He paced up a down for a minute or two. ‘Very well. If Hugh apologises, abjectly mind, I’ll forget about today and see how things pan out, now that the idea is planted in Richard’s mind. Heaven knows what my wife will say though.’

  ‘Just tell her that we think it would be best if they got to know each other first.’ The rain began to fall again and the two men made their way back to the great hall.

  ~#~

  It was a better day further south where Robert of Locksley was riding through the forest towards Ossington again. Over the past nine months he had grown a bushy beard so he was fairly certain that he was unlikely to be recognised. The sun occasionally broke through the cloud cover to lighten his mood further. He had heard that Gervase of Ossington had died and today was his funeral so he thought he should pay his respects and perhaps comfort the widow, not that he thought she would be grieving overmuch. He rode through the deserted village and, leaving John Little to hold the horses, he went into the small church.

  He made his way through the crowd standing in the packed nave. Seeing the quality of his overtunic and the sword that he wore, the villagers moved aside for him, whispering amongst themselves and wondering who he was, until he was standing behind Marianne. He was surprised to see her father, Sir Stephen of Laxton, standing beside her. He decided that it was too risky to speak to her there and so he waited until the service was over. He stayed to one side as Marianne and her father left and then followed them out. Mounting up, he rode out of the village whilst the interment was conducted at the graveside.

  ‘What went wrong?’ John couldn’t contain his curiosity as they rode back up the track to the woods.

  ‘My uncle, my aunt’s husband that is, was there. I should have known he would be.’

  ‘He wouldn’t betray you, would he?’

  ‘He might well. I know my father had to pay a hefty fine because of my escape from Locksley so I’m out of favour with my family. And I’m sure that Marianne’s father doesn’t have marriage to an outlaw in mind for his daughter as the next step. No doubt he will want to bind a more worthy knight to him by offering Marianne’s hand in marriage with Ossington manor as the dowry,’ he said with some bitterness.

  As the clouds broke up and the sun lit up the land Robert watched from the shadow of the trees for his uncle to leave but he showed no signs of doing so. Then, as the sun stared to sink in the sky, Sir Stephen came out of the hall house and mounted his horse. It wasn’t until the knight and his escort of a squire and two serjeants started up the track towards him that he realised that he would soon be seen. So he and John led their horses into the dense undergrowth beside the track.

  Robert watched them ride past within fifty yards of where he stood, then for some unknown reason John’s jennet whinnied. The four horsemen stopped and turned round.

  ‘I’m sure I heard a horse neigh, Sir Stephen,’ the squire spoke first.

  ‘So did I. How peculiar.’ Stephen of Laxton shrugged. ‘Must have carried from the village I suppose. Come on; I want to get back before dark.’ With that they turned their horses around again and trotted off.

  ‘Thanks be to the Lord,’ Robert said flippantly. ‘It would have been difficult to explain why we were hiding.’

  They waited a few more minutes and then re-emerged onto the road and rode down to the hall house. They dismounted and John led the horses off to the stables were an open mouthed stable boy stood looking at them in surprise.

  ‘Don’t stand there catching flies, lad. Help me unsaddle and rub down our horses. Do you have any oats?’

  Meanwhile Robert climbed the stairs to the hall and went inside. The interior was dark and gloomy. It was getting dark but even in bright sun little light would have penetrated through the arrow slits. Two rush lights stood on the stone shelf over the open hearth set into one wall and three candles stood on the single table in the middle of the bare room. A man sat at the table looking through some papers by the light of one of the candles.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ He stood up as Robert walked towards him.

  ‘I’ve come to offer my condolences to Lady Marianne. I’m her cousin,’ Robert smiled at the man and continued to walk towards the door into the solar.

  ‘I’m her bailiff, sir. I’ll let her know you are here,’ he said quickly trying to head Robert off.

  ‘If you are her cousin then we must be related.’ Robert hadn’t heard Stephen of Laxton enter the room followed by one of his serjeants and his squire. The other serjeant was presumably outside with John Little. ‘I know we couldn’t have heard a horse whinny in the village from where we were. Well, who are you?’

  Instead of replying Robert made for the door to the solar, ran past a startled Marianne and, throwing the shutter wide, pulled himself through the small window and dropped to the ground. Luckily he landed on his feet with his knees bent. By the time that Sir Stephen had stick his head through the window Robert had sprinted round to the stables where John was being held at sword point by the other serjeant. Robert paused to draw his sword before attacking the serjeant. By now his three pursuers had reached the top of the steps leading down from the hall but, luckily, the squire in the lead stumbled, fell to the ground from some height and lay there moaning. Sir Stephen stopped to see if he was badly hurt but motioned for the other serjeant to help apprehend Robert.

  Once free of the threat of a sword at his throat John quickly found a pitchfork and stabbed it into the back of the serjeant fighting Robert. The thin tines went through the chain mail links easily and penetrated his skin to the depth of a few inches. Whilst not fatal, a man with a pitchfork protruding from his back cannot fight very well and a quick bang on his forehead from the pommel of Robert’s sword knocked him out. Robert spun around to face the other man just as he made a savage cut at Robert’s head. He parried the blow and riposted, forcing the serjeant to take a step back. John picked up the other sword and came to join Robert just as Stephen left his injured squire and came to his man’s aid.

  ‘Stop it all of you.’ Marianne’s shrill cry caused them all to pause. ‘What on earth is going on here. Shame on you, father, for brawling on the day of Gervase’s funeral. And who are you, sir, to come here uninvited and disturb my grief.’

  ‘I merely came to offer my condolences when my squire was held at sword point and I was accosted.’

  ‘Do I know you? I don’t recognise you. Why then would you offer me condolences?’ Marianne looked puzzled then her face cleared. ‘But I think I know that voice. Is it you, Robert?’

  The man in question bowed slightly in acknowledgement but still kept his sword ready.

  ‘My, you do keep surprising me.’

  ‘I would hate for you to think me predictable, Marianne.’

  ‘Do you know this man?’ her father broke in.

  ‘Since we were children, father. It’s Sir Robert of Locksley.’

  ‘The outlaw?’ At first Stephen was dumbfounded, then he recovered his wits. ‘In that case you are under arrest; there is a price on your head.’

  ‘Father don’t be silly, he’s family.’

>   ‘Not any more, His father renounced him as his son when he nearly lost his manor because of the fine he had to pay for this man’s actions.’

  ‘I’m sure that was purely for public consumption, uncle,’ Robert cut in. ‘I’m sorry about your man but he should recover if you stop letting his blood seep into the earth and do something to help him. Meanwhile we’ll be on our way. John go and saddle the horses, there’s a good lad. Marianne, I would like to say that I’m sorry about your husband but actually I think you are well rid of a bully and a miser.’

  With that Robert ducked into the stables and re-appeared a couple of seconds later with his bow. Knocking an arrow into place he faced Stephen and his serjeant.

  ‘Unfortunately it will take John a few minutes to saddle our horses so I suggest you waste no further time in dealing with your squire, who appears to have broken his ankle by the way he is holding it and wailing, and someone had better attend to your wounded serjeant.’

  ‘I’ll deal with the squire. Father, you tend to your serjeant.’ Marianne came down the steps and gently felt the youth’s ankle. ‘It’s only a bad sprain. Oh do shut up moaning or you’ll never make a knight,’ she said irritably, pulling a length of linen from her underskirt to strap it up.

  A few minutes later Robert and John mounted their horses and went to ride away, but first Robert rode over to Marianne and, leaning down towards her, whispered. ‘I’ll be back a week tonight. Don’t let your father marry you to another old goat before then.’

  ~#~

  Nicholas of Craigmor was excited about leaving home; not so his mother, who was in tears. The boy was now nearly nine and his father had decided that it was high time he went away to be a page in another lord’s household. Emma had pleaded with Guy not to send him away but Guy was adamant. He remembered how his own mother had tried to keep him at Peverel Castle and that stiffened his resolve. He had wondered where to send him and consulted Gospatric, earl of Lothian, who had immediately offered to take Nicholas as a page at Dunbar Castle.