Fulke’s gaze scanned the crowds for anyone he recognized. “The foulness tends to be worse during the yearly thaw.”
Guiding their horses around a slow moving cart laden with
turnips, Fulke gestured to a narrow alleyway. “The Silver Spur is located at the end of that lane. Once you feel certain you have done your duty make your way there and inform the others of your progress.”
“My liege,” Gervase hesitated. “If I were invited to…”
“I expect you at the inn to report on your progress, Gervase. Where you sleep at night is no concern of mine.”
“Aye, my liege.”
After a moment, Fulke said, “Keep in mind your lady’s feelings are not bound to have changed if she believes you have yet to reform your ways.”
“I shall do all I can to convince her that I am a changed man.” Gervase glanced over at Fulke with a sheepish grin. “You do not often speak to me in such an intimate fashion.”
“Would you rather I left such musings to Guy?”
“Not at all, I am rather pleased to hear of your concern for me.”
Fulke appeared surprised. “Have I ever given you reason to
believe I do not care for your wellbeing?”
“Not once in the years I have known you, my liege. Your risking so much for Talan speaks of how you feel about us.”
“Then why would you say such a thing?”
“Might I speak freely?”
“I grow weary of standing on the pedestal you have placed me on, Gervase. Say what you have to say.”
“To a man we know you care as much for us as we do for you. Only, you are not so good at always expressing it.” When Fulke remained silent, Gervase went on, “We know you understandably confide in Albin. Even though you are our liege and we are all beholden to you, I and a few of the others often hope you would also confide in us on occasion.”
“I confide in you on all manners of import,” Fulke said after a lengthy pause, “yet that is not what you mean, is it?”
“It is not,” Gervase said. “You are the only father figure some of us have ever known. Your opinion means much.”
“I suppose my reticence is due to our positions. I have always felt myself to be more of your protector than your friend. In the future, I shall attempt to guide you and the rest of the men in all matters.”
“Thank you, my liege.”
It was not until they reached the palace’s courtyard that Fulke was recognized. A murmur ran through the assembled crowd like a brushfire. Closer to the palace an uncomfortable silence descended. With all eyes fixed on the newcomers, people slowly backed out of the way to clear a path to the palace’s steps.
Ignoring all else, Fulke and Gervase kept their passive gazes fixed on the palace towering majestically above them. Sunlight sparkled off the immense arched stained-glass window centered between a pair of tall ornate spires.
Fulke dismounted to curtly pass the reins to a liveried stable boy. Straightening his formal surcoat, he ignored the nobles pressing forward to get a better look at him. His manner unapproachable, he entered the palace with Gervase following close on his heels.
The pair stood a full head and shoulders above the average citizen making them easily recognizable to the palace’s occupants. Conversations drew to a staggering halt as their booted feet echoed along the marble flooring. Vaulted ceilings reaching several stories high gave the palace an immense aura. Stained glass panels reflected patterns of light on the gathered nobility below.
Fulke searched through the crowd for anyone he recognized. Nobles from the courtyard began to trickle in to see for themselves what kind of reception he would receive. “Have a care, Gervase. I will send a page to find you if I am allotted quarters. If I am outright refused an audience, I will await you back at the inn.”
“Let us hope it is one of those choices,” Gervase whispered, “and that you are not arrested.”
“Aye, let us hope.” Fulke slanted his knight an irritated look.
“Good luck, my liege.” Spotting a group of male nobles heading in their direction, Gervase lost himself in the crowd.
“It is you!” A portly noble wearing a scarlet and gold embroidered bliaud and matching hose reached up to grip Fulke’s shoulder. “How good it is to see you again, Baron Erlegh.”
“Baron de Grey.” Fulke seemed genuinely pleased. “What brings you to the city?”
“I might ask the same of you.” Baron de Grey leaned in to whisper. “By now, even the king has been informed of your illustrious presence, or should I say infamous?”
“It appears both would apply to me,” Fulke said. “Trust me, if there were an easier way to gain an audience with our good king, I would have taken it.”
Gripping Fulke’s muscular bicep, Baron de Grey led him to a corner of the hall. “Henry has been in a benevolent mood of late, Fulke. Rumor has it the betrothal negotiations between his daughter and Count Geoffrey are progressing. Once the empress is wed and produces a male heir, Henry’s troubles will lessen considerably.”
“I knew our king was avidly working on an alliance, yet from what I witnessed, Matilda loathes the count.”
“The majority of nobles despise their spouses.” Baron de Grey lowered his voice. “Affection has no place in marriage.”
Fulke ignored the last comment. “What has Stephen to say about the rumors?”
“The king’s nephew is not at all pleased by the news of a probable alliance,” Baron de Grey confided. “From what I hear, he remains on his present course of action to claim the throne for himself. As you know there is little love lost between the two cousins. Henry still lives and the two are already furtively making noble pacts in their quest for the crown.”
“Certainly, such pacts do not involve the barons? At the behest of the king, we have already sworn allegiance to Matilda.”
“The barons feel they were coerced,” Baron de Grey said casting a look around. “When the time comes, many will cast their lot with Stephen.”
“It appears I have missed much since I have been away,” Fulke said.
“Is that why you have come, to petition your return to court?” Baron de Grey turned his back on a brazen eavesdropper.
“Indeed not.” Fulke chuckled. “I have no wish to return to court.”
“Then I consider myself perplexed at your being here.”
“Perhaps that is for the best since I am currently out of favor with the king,” Fulke said. “I would not want to do anything to affect your good standing.”
“Say no more, I can take a hint.” Baron de Grey held his hands up. “Your business here is your own.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Fulke relaxed. “Is Baron Reynold currently in residence?”
“Have you not heard? Your sworn adversary disappeared shortly after your banishment. Some believe there to be more to it. The king was rather hasty in reclaiming his title and lands.”
Fulke’s longtime nemesis, Baron Reynold had managed to discover Reina’s unique ability to read lips. Unbeknownst to Reynold, she was posing as the king’s mistress to spy on visiting dignitaries. When Baron Reynold accused her and Fulke of treason in open court, King Henry was forced to protect his knowledge of Reina’s secret by ordering her arrest. When Fulke drew his sword to protest the ill treatment of his loyal wife, the king had no choice but to order Fulke’s arrest. While many of Fulke’s enemies called for his life to be forfeit, King Henry instead banished his former favorite from court.
“I see.” Fulke turned his back on a group of nobles eyeing their conversation “What of his wife, Arabella?”
“Oh yes, the lovely Arabella. I had quite forgotten you had a past with the lady,” Baron de Grey said. “Is that not the reason why Reynold took such a dislike to you?”
“It was one reason among many,” Fulke said. “I only ask after the baroness since she was kind to me and my wife.”
“Do not concern yourself on her account.” Baron de Grey flicked his beringed f
ingers. “After the pope declared Reynold deceased, her ladyship remarried a lesser noble. By all accounts she is quite content living in the country.”
“I am pleased to hear it.” Halting an approaching quartet of nobles with an icy stare, Fulke resumed the conversation. “Would you happen to be acquainted with Justice de Glanville?”
“Tell me you did not cross de Glanville?” Baron de Grey took a step back. “Is that why you have come? You know he is King Henry’s oldest friend.”
“So I have been told,” Fulke said. “Have you heard his name mentioned of late?”
“The last I heard his last wife had up and left him, not that anyone was surprised. His taste for bedchamber debauchery is well known to all here.”
“I had almost forgotten there are no secrets within palace walls,” Fulke said. “You certainly seem to be well informed. Might I ask where it is you come by your gossip?”
“A few well-placed coins here and there work well to loosen tongues.” Baron de Grey winked. “Try it on one of the justice’s servants and you shall see for yourself.”
Making a mental note to pass on the information to Gervase, Fulke smiled. “I shall be sure to keep that in mind.”
“I doubt missing the latest court gossip has you risking Henry’s temper by coming here...”
“In that you would be correct,” Fulke assured him.
“Since you are not likely to take a hint and confide what it is that brings you back to court,” Baron de Grey said, “is there anything I can do to lend you assist in your furtive quest?”
“The only way you could help me is if you are on friendly terms with the king’s appointment steward.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” Baron de Grey crossed his arms. “Young Olin owes me for a wager he lost on a joust.”
“You cannot be serious?” Fulke’s raised voice had hovering nobles inch closer.
“I would never lay claim to such a thing were it not true.” Baron de Grey chuckled. “Shall I go and seek Olin out for you?”
“If you were to secure me an appointment with the king this day,” Fulke said, “I would owe you a service.”
“To have you beholden to me is a reward onto itself. Stay here and accept the adoration of the enraptured crowd. I shall return as soon as possible.”
Reveling in his good luck, Fulke realized he and Baron de Grey had become the center of the court’s attention. Seeing him take notice, many of the assembled nobles belatedly looked away. “Saints bones,” he swore to himself, “I wish I were home.”
Chapter Sixteen
“There is a small brook up ahead with a small copse of trees for cover,” the captain of the guard called at dusk. “We will camp there for the night.”
“I say we go on,” Talan said. “There is plenty of light left to see by.”
“Look who has deigned to speak,” the captain said dismounting. “Tis a shame you wasted your breath. Make camp or I shall have my men lend you assist.”
“If I were you, I would not be so anxious to reach the city,” one of the guards said.
Left with no choice, Talan dismounted.
A short time later, the men were gathered around a small, smoking fire. Sitting on damp blankets, the canopy of foliage above them did little to keep the wind and rain from soaking them further.
“I think I will call it a night.” Wrapping up in his sodden cloak, Caine curled up on his side.
Settling down beside his brother, Frederick covered his eyes with his arm. “Let us pray for better weather on the morrow.”
Talan lay on his back heedless to the rain pelting his exposed face. His body wracked with shivers, his mind was on revenge. While he knew Edmund would see to Mylla’s care, he worried about her present state of mind. Before drifting off into an exhausted slumber, he wondered if she would ever forgive him for killing her eldest brother.
†
Edmund stopped at twilight to make camp in a recessed outcropping of rock. “There will be no fire so I suggest you dress accordingly.”
Her voice hoarse from her futile attempts to reason with him, Mylla tried one last time. “Edmund, after what you have done, you cannot possibly believe the family will go on as if nothing has happened.”
“In time they will see reason.” After ignoring her for the better part of the day, he finally responded to her entreaties. Dropping his saddle onto the ground he propped himself against it. “I do not blame you,” Edmund said. “You were coddled and raised to believe you were more than what you are.”
“And what is it you think I am?”
“You are woman,” Edmund said. “Your duty is to advance the family fortune through marriage, and naught else. After your betrayal, we are fortunate the justice will still have you.”
“As his mistress,” Mylla said. “Do you despise me so much you would sell me so cheaply?”
“Tis your fault you are to be his mistress, not mine.” He rolled onto his side away from her. “Now cease your prattle and get some rest. I would have you look your best on the morrow.”
Mylla waited until she heard Edmund’s soft snores. Praying for a break in the clouds, she walked her horse until she found a large boulder. After several attempts, she managed to seat herself in the saddle. “You must lead the way,” she whispered turning the mare in the direction they had come. “There is not enough light for me to see by.” Nudging the steed with her knees, she closed her eyes in relief when they began to move.
†
Wearing a formidable scowl, Fulke stood with his arms crossed to deter any curious nobles from seeking him out. At one point he spotted Gervase strolling through the hall with a highborn lady on each arm. Cracking a brief smile at his knight’s boldness, he once again resumed his daunting stance.
It appeared Empress Matilda had greatly influenced the court in his absence. Italian nobles unknown to him adorned in costly silk brocades had taken a role of dominance. Married as a child to Holy Roman Emperor Henry V, she quickly became a young widow. Vain and demanding, her enemies in England had outnumbered her allies until she surrounded herself with sycophants from the Italian court.
“So it is true,” a deep voice stirred Fulke from his observations, “Henry’s prodigal favorite has returned against orders.”
“Count Stephen.” Genuinely pleased to see the king’s nephew, Fulke clasped arms with the older man. “It is good to see a friendly face amongst so many foreigners.”
“You see afore you my cousin’s latest attempt to liven our dull existence, her words mind you, not mine.” Stephen’s brown eyes lit up as he firmly clasped Fulke’s muscular forearm. A head shorter than Fulke with collar length blond hair, he had a long nose, trimmed mustache and close-cropped beard. Wearing an embroidered blue tunic denoting his high status, his demeanor held him above all other nobles.
“I take it there is no newfound admiration betwixt you?” Fulke asked.
“Nor is there ever like to be,” Stephen said. “Tell me, why have you risked provoking the lion’s wrath by coming here?”
Fulke pointedly glanced around at the eavesdropping crowd.
Holding up his hand, Stephen’s voice echoed in the now silent hall. “Leave us.”
Obeying the count’s command, nobles quickly scattered in all directions. Once the hall was cleared, Stephen’s personal guards blocked the outer doors to keep anyone from entering.
“I see you have retained your authoritative touch,” Fulke said, clearly impressed at the speed of the departing group.
“I possess a kingly manner, do not you think?” Stephen crossed his arms with a grin.
“The nobles respond to you as if you were already crowned king.”
“In time it will not matter how many foreigners my cousin surrounds herself with,” Stephen said. “I am determined to take my rightful place on the throne.”
“The last we spoke you were attempting to sway Robert Fitzroy to back your claim,” Fulke said. “Have you succeeded?”
“Bastard of He
nry’s that he is the first Earl of Gloucester will not betray his half-sister.” Stephen glowered. “He will no doubt become her greatest ally in the conflict that is to come.”
“Conflict?” Fulke frowned. “You do not believe the matter can be settled with diplomacy?”
“Diplomacy is not a word in Matilda’s vocabulary,” Stephen said. “Battle is the only realistic conclusion.”
“Such a thing is sure to divide the country,” Fulke said. “Are you certain there is no other way?”
“The majority will not support a female sovereign, Fulke. You know that. After my cousin William drowned, I am the closest to a legitimate son that Henry has. After all, he raised me. No one could rule in his stead like I could.”
“Stephen, a conflict of such magnitude could take years.”
“Indeed it may, yet I am hopeful that Henry will come to his
senses.” Stephen reached up to grip Fulke’s shoulder. “Despite your pledge to Matilda, I am ever hopeful I can count on your support if he does not.”
“I will continue to pray that time never comes.”
“I see you have remained diplomatic in your long absence.” Stephen smiled. “It appears I have monopolized the conversation with my political ambitions. Why have you come?”
“One of my men has run into a spot of trouble with Henry’s Chief Itinerant Justice. I have come on his behalf.”
“I must say, that is the last thing I would have expected to hear,” Stephen said. “What has your man done to cross the merciless Ranulf?”
“Do you consider Ranulf a friend?”
“A friend of mine?” Stephen laughed. “Would I call him merciless if he were? Truth be told, I would rather not consider the man to be an acquaintance. He is loyal to Henry, which means he has cast his support for Matilda’s claim.”
“I must admit I am beyond pleased to hear it.”
“Cut to the gist, Fulke.” Stephen turned serious. “What is this about?”
“Love, actually.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Extremely loyal to his wife, Stephen was intrigued. “Let me guess, your man championed a lady by standing in the way of the justice’s baser desires.”
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