“You are not far wrong,” Fulke said. “Talan fell in love with the Sheriff of Rochester’s only daughter, Mylla. He had a mutual understanding with the lass prior to the justice’s claim.”
“I take it the mutual understanding was not formerly proclaimed?”
“Talan is honorable to a fault. He wanted to have everything in order prior to petitioning the sheriff for her hand.”
“Then I would say it is unfortunate timing on your man’s part,” Stephen said. “Did the lady’s father agree to the justice’s troth?”
“He did. Do you think the sheriff had any choice in the matter?”
“Nevertheless, I am afraid there is nothing that can be done.” Stephen paused as a thought occurred to him. “Something has already been done. That would explain your presence here.”
“Indeed you are correct,” Fulke acknowledged. “Talan has fled Rochester with his lady love.”
“They absconded?” Throwing back his head, Stephen’s laughter echoed throughout the vaulted hall. “What a juicy dilemma. The palace will be all atwitter upon hearing this latest tidbit.”
“That I do not doubt,” Fulke said.
“I knew it was something of grave import, yet to find it also entertaining is quite a boon.”
“Forgive me if I do not share in your amusement, Stephen. Talan is more than my knight, I consider him a brother.”
“Aye, I well know how you care for your men. It is churlish of me to make light of your predicament.” Stephen once again grew serious. “You wish to have the formal betrothal with the justice annulled?”
“Do you think it at all possible?”
“I cannot say for sure. The justice has more enemies than friends at court. There are many here who would pay a high sum to see him slighted. On the other hand, Henry is quite fond of him. They have an attachment going back to their boyhoods.”
“I keep hearing as much.” Fulke straightened to his full height. “That is why I must humbly ask for your assistance in this matter.”
“You expect me to use my influence with Henry to intercede on young Talan’s behalf?”
“It is what I am asking.”
“I see.” Stephen’s demeanor changed. “And what may I ask would I receive in return for my intercession?”
“The only thing I have that you would find of value,” Fulke said after a long pause. “Upon Henry’s death, I would consider breaking my vow to Matilda in support of your claim to the throne.”
“You would only consider it?”
“Like I told you when you initially sought my support, I will do what I feel is best for the realm,” Fulke said. “It is the only pledge I can make to you.”
“I suppose that is a start.” Stephen relaxed by crossing his arms. “Unfortunately, it seems like you will benefit more from the current bargain.”
“With all due respect, Stephen, I do not have time to play games. We both know you need my support if you are to sway more barons to your cause.”
“I had forgotten how forthright you can be. It is a refreshing change after being surrounded by bootlickers for so long.” Stephen smiled. “You also happen to be correct. I highly value your support, and for it, I will do what I can for your man. Only know this, there are no guarantees where Henry is concerned. He may or may not listen to me.”
“I am well aware of that, yet my word is my bond,” Fulke said. “I shall give your claim serious consideration when the time comes.”
Stephen clasped Fulke’s shoulder with a genuine smile. “You are likely the most honorable man I have ever met. I know what it cost you to strike this deal. In time, I shall prove to you that I am the right claimant for the throne.”
“Thank you.” Feeling like a traitor, Fulke lowered his head. It was not so long ago that he had joined with an assemblage of English and Norman barons to swear allegiance to the king’s daughter. Henry’s only legitimate offspring after the death of his only son, the king intended for the widowed Matilda to be crowned the first Queen of England. Deeming his cousin unworthy of the crown, Stephen had secretly been plotting to claim the throne for himself upon the death of his uncle.
“I am pleased we have reached an accord,” Stephen said. “Let us hope Henry is in a forgiving mood.”
“I have information that may sway the king’s favor our way,” Fulke said.
“What information could you possibly possess against the impenetrable justice?”
“Is attestation that he has committed outright murder good enough for you?”
“The justice has murdered more men than I can count,” Stephen scoffed. “The king is not only aware of it he more often than not condones it.”
“Aye, commoners are plentiful,” Fulke conceded with a grin. “Only I speak of a noblewoman…. related however distantly to the king.”
“If this woman you speak of is related to the king, she is also relation to me,” Stephen said. “Who is it you are referring to?”
“Are you familiar with the justice’s third wife, Lady Kaylein?”
“Kaylein?” Stephen appeared taken aback. “We often spent time together as children. She was more sister to me than cousin.”
Relief flooded Fulke’s features. If Stephen was fond of the lady, Henry was bound to be as well.
“Are you saying what I think you are saying? Kaylein did not flee the justice’s house with a lover?”
“From what I have been told, she never left his London residence,” Fulke said. “Even now her body rests in the oubliette he had dug in his basement.”
“And all this time we believed de Glanville’s account.” Stephen clenched his fists with tightened lips. “My uncle even felt obligated to make amends to him for being labeled a cuckold.”
“The justice is a wise man,” Fulke said. “He would rather be considered a cuckold than a murderer of a noblewoman with royal blood.”
“You have definitive proof of this?”
“I would think the lady’s remains would be proof enough.”
“Indeed.” Stephen nodded thoughtfully.
†
Talan’s group arrived in the capital city the next night sometime after the bells of compline. The cold had cleared the city streets of all but the unfortunate citizens who were forced to live in them. Huddled in their tattered rags, they gathered in doorways of closed merchant shops for what little warmth they could find.
Approaching the palace, Frederick guided his horse closer to Talan’s. “From your statement earlier, I take it we are now brothers.”
“Tis true,” Talan said. “Mylla is my cherished wife.”
“If the justice attempts to slay you outright when we arrive, what would you have us do?”
“The guards stripped me of my sword and dagger,” Talan said, “They left me with the dining blade gifted to me by Baroness Reina. Lady Lecie slayed Hamon with Albin’s, I figure I can slay the justice if given the opportunity. If I am slain afore I am able, I would ask that you do all you can to save Mylla.”
“Whatever it takes,” Frederick said. “Consider it done.”
“If I am slain,” Talan said after some time, “apart from leaving Mylla, my one regret would be my failure to kill your eldest brother.”
“Edmund is already dead to me.” Frederick looked over at Caine who dipped his head. “He is dead to us both. We shall see that he is punished for what he has done.”
Passing the lane branching off in the direction of The Silver Spur, Talan tightened his grip on the reins. With firm resolve, he mentally prepared himself for what was to come.
†
Had Talan’s group taken the turn, they would have been forced to walk their horses in a single file down the narrow lane. Lined with manor houses and merchant shops, one of the city’s many public stables was situated at the far end facing them.
The white and black painted sign of The Silver Spur was illuminated by two lanterns. Unlike most taverns with shuttered windows, it had costly glass panes casting a greenish-yellow lig
ht onto the cobbled walkway out front.
Seated around a table inside, Albin discussed the current situation with Euric, Leofrick, and Guy.
“The baron’s arrival is the talk of the court,” Euric said. “I managed to overhear someone say that Fulke had an in depth conversation with Count Stephen. It is what we were hoping would occur.”
“Have you heard any mention of Fulke having spoken with the king?” Albin asked.
“Not a word,” Euric said, “yet I made it no further than the courtyard. Mayhap on the morrow I shall make it inside.”
“Our liege’s continued absence speaks well of the possibility,” Guy said. “Do not you think, Albin?”
“Knowing the king,” Albin said, “Fulke may very well be passing time in the dungeon.”
Chapter Seventeen
Edmund backtracked along the rocky terrain and located Mylla several miles from their campsite. The first rays of the morning sun touched upon his sister where she sat dejectedly on the ground beside the steep crevice that caused her horse to fall. The gleam of white bone jutting from the mare’s shattered hind leg could clearly be seen from a distance.
Dismounting beside her, Edmund unsheathed his sword.
“What are you going to do?” Gently stroking the mare’s forelock, Mylla’s eyes widened with fear.
“Move away from the beast.”
Mylla refused to budge. “Not until you tell me what you are going to do.”
Grabbing Mylla’s forearm, Edmund dragged her clear of the mare. “Blame your ignorance for what I must now do.”
“Please, Edmund,” Mylla begged. “Do not harm her. Please.”
Lifting the mare’s head, he slit the carotid artery in one fluid movement. Arterial spray arched from the wound splattering Edmund’s tunic. He stepped back as the dying mare’s lifeblood pumped its last onto the turf.
“You bastard!” Mylla launched herself on Edmund’s back. Her nails dug furrows along his cheeks as she released her pent up anger and frustration.
“If I am a bastard, so are you.” Reaching back, he grabbed Mylla’s braid to fling her to the ground. “Scratch me again and the justice will not find you so pretty.”
Mylla scrambled to her feet. Holding her skirts up, she started running.
No match for the longer strides of her brother, Edmund again used her braid for leverage to stop her flight. Hauling her over his shoulder, he carried her back to his horse. “Now you have a choice,” he said setting her on her feet. “Ride upright afore me, or strapped facedown like a sack of grain behind me. Which is it to be?”
“I shall never forgive you.” Mylla broke into sobs.
†
“Baron Erlegh, I fear I have let you down once again.”
Pacing in the walled courtyard, Fulke looked up at Baron de Grey’s approach. “Whatever makes you say such a thing?”
Baron de Grey looked about for listening ears. “I fear young Olin has failed in his attempts to secure you an audience.”
“Your news is not at all surprising to me.” Fulke’s tone turned bitter. “It has been close to a sennight and whilst I have been ordered to remain in the palace, I have heard little else.”
“My top emissaries have their ears in the most privy of places,” Baron de Grey confided. “Your name has not even been whispered in the royal quarters.”
“It appears our sovereign is well and truly vexed with me.” Fulke planted his hands on his hips. “Even Stephen has been unsuccessful in gaining me an audience.”
“Word has spread that you must have indeed fallen out of favor with his majesty, and I am sorry for it.” Clasping Fulke’s forearm, Baron de Grey guided Fulke away from an approaching group of nobles. “How long will you wait in limbo?”
“Until the king either agrees to see me or releases me to return home,” Fulke said. “What other choice is open to me?”
“I will continue to press Olin,” Baron de Grey said. “Perhaps he will succeed in swaying the king. In the meantime, I shall have my followers spread some gossip in your favor.”
“You could do that? Sway the opinion of the masses?”
“But of course I can.” Baron de Grey chuckled. “Owing to my status, I am often approached for a boon. The knack is to later hold the requesters liable for the favors I grant them.”
“Including me,” Fulke said with a frown. “Since I have been surrounded by genuine friends for so long, I had forgotten the way of things at court.”
“That is a tad harsh, think you not?” Baron de Grey looked offended. “I am after all endeavoring to assist you.”
“You are, and because of it, I will owe you said boon.”
“The exchange of favors is the only way to maintain a position of importance here,” Baron de Grey said. “I ask for no more than anyone else would.”
“I am aware of how things work,” Fulke said, “only it goes against who I am to be beholden to anyone.”
“I shall not ask for much,” Baron de Grey assured him with a sly smile.
“While making your rounds, have you heard anyone mention Justice de Glanville?” Fulke changed the subject.
“Not a word,” Baron de Grey said. “Shall I ask his appointment steward when he is next expected?”
“That will not be necessary,” Fulke said. “I shall know the moment he returns.”
“Forgive me,” Baron de Grey’s tone turned curt. “I was under the impression that we had an exclusive arrangement. Have you enlisted other nobles to further your cause?”
“Ease your mind on that account.” Fulke held up a hand. “You are the only one I trust enough to strike a deal with. The justice and I have an unfinished matter between us. He is sure to seek me out.”
“I would give much to see that reunion. Your encounter with the justice in Rochester was the talk of the court for some time.” Plucking a yellow rose from a nearby bush, Baron de Grey inhaled deeply. “Now if you will excuse me, I best tend to my affairs.”
Left alone, Fulke angrily raked his hands through his hair. Henry no doubt had him cooling his heels to send him a message. Missing Reina and Raine, he wondered how long he would be forced to bow to the will of his headstrong king.
†
Leofrick paced the length of the inn’s common room. “It has been far too long. One way or the other, we should have heard something by now.”
“I like it no more than you, my friend, yet there is nothing we can do about it.” Draining his ale, Albin replenished the cup. “Until we receive word from Fulke stating otherwise, we wait.”
“I have not the patience to sit idle,” Leofrick said. “Mayhap I should have gone with Euric and Sir Guy to mill with the palace crowds.”
“Drinking helps,” Albin said, “but if you feel you must do more, why not go for a walk? Your pacing is driving me to distraction.”
“I think I shall,” Leofrick said. “A breath of fresh air might ease my troubled mind.”
“Let me know if you find any,” Albin said.
His thoughts on Mylla, Leofrick walked past hawkers and beggars without heeding their pleas. He was several blocks into his musings when his mind started to play tricks on him. A familiar looking man and woman approached his location on horseback. A ray of sunlight had broken through the clouds to turn the maiden’s flaxen tresses to burnished gold. “Mylla,” he said to no one in particular. Taking in his sister’s distraught disheveled appearance and the blood staining her gown, he wrongly assumed it was Talan’s. His gaze moved to his eldest brother who held their sister captive before him. The truth of what he was seeing slammed into Leofrick. Blaming himself, he took off running.
†
Gervase was once again passing through one of the palace’s many corridors. Conversing with the extravagantly dressed daughter of a viscount, he concealed his frustration behind trivial gossip. It had been days and he had yet to come across Lady Adorlee or her father. His inquiries regarding the master-marshal’s family led nowhere. Each time he would broach the s
ubject, the topic would switch to Fulke’s return. Everyone was waiting to see how the king would react.
In the meantime, he had successfully planted gossip about the mysterious disappearance of the justice’s third wife. Waiting for the word to spread was proving difficult for him. Separated from his band of brothers and unable to converse with his liege, Gervase wondered how much longer his presence would be tolerated. Planning on another nocturnal quest to seek out Fulke, Lady Naida broached a subject that caught his attention.
“I spoke to my father about Lady Kaylein,” she said. “He is not the only one that finds the lady’s absence peculiar. Father said it makes no sense that she would disappear without first approaching the king.”
Guiding Naida into one of the curtained niches spaced along the outer walls, Gervase feigned ignorance. “What could the king have done for her?”
“Very well whatever he wanted.” Rubbing herself up against him, Naida smiled invitingly. “Did you not know? They are kin, providing the lady still lives.”
“I was unaware of a familial connection.”
“Distant cousins on their maternal side,” Naida confided. “I heard tell the justice is a brute in the bedchamber, and not at all considerate of a lady’s needs.”
“I have heard the justice and the king are longtime friends so I doubt she would have petitioned the king for assistance.”
“Nothing trumps royal blood, Gervase.” Lady Naida bent an impatient look on him. “Oftentimes I forget you are merely a handsome face.”
Ignoring the insult, Gervase began to caress her breast through the purple silk of her kirtle. “What else did your father have to say on the matter?”
“Father said the only reason the lady married the justice was to please her family. She would never disgrace them in the manner she is accused. He finds it all very suspicious indeed.” Hiking her skirts up, Naida parted her legs invitingly.
“Your father sounds like a sensible man.” Lifting her leg to rest alongside his hip, Gervase pressed his hardening manhood against her.
“He is.” Naida reached around his back to draw him closer. “It is his belief that the justice may have done away with the poor lady. He intends to broach the subject with a few close confidants.”
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