Gifts of the Queen

by Mary Lide

  At daybreak then, the child bathed and fed, I kilted on my old gray skirt and went out to search for Lord Raoul. Privy to his secrets I was not. Today I meant to change that. Early as I was, the patrols had already gone. Lord Raoul had gone, too; my squires, mounting up, would have stopped for speech but their captain, bawling at them for tardiness, bid them ride on. Within the shelter of the great castle towers a fire was burning to keep the workmen warm as they struggled into their clothes. I had not come up to the castle since their work had begun and, at first, I was appalled at the litter they had made. Even those carefully heaped piles of stone that had caused us so many hours' work were scattered abroad. There was not one place that seemed free of refuse and dirt, between the scaffolding, apprentices leaped and swung as if they had been born in trees with tails. It has never failed to amaze me that, out of such chaos, they could build their clear and uncluttered designs.

  'Save you, Lady Ann. You look for something, someone?' It was the master mason, riding up on his small white horse. He clambered off it as if climbing down a stair. Today he was dressed in his workman's clothes, a tunic cut off short to reveal his brawny arms and a kind of apron around his waist, into which were stuck his long-handled hammers and other tools. I had not seen him since he saved my life. I did not know what to say to him, but he was a kindly man as you know; he took the time to talk with me.

  'If you would search for someone,' he said at last, 'climb up.' He gestured toward the scaffolding that edged the towers and gave me his hand, not gracefully as do knights, barely letting their fingers touch, but firmly, so to draw me on. As we moved from plank to plank, he paused to run his palm along the layers of stone, as if to feel they were true to line, as if to search out hidden flaws. I had a strange sensation as we climbed. For the first time, I think I realized what strength lay in those walls, so that, on brushing past, you sensed, like some great sleeping beast, the power that was crouched in them. Like some sleeping beast, they waited for a touch to send them rearing, flaring up. And as we rose higher, we could see the faint lines of the outer walls, not apparent from the ground, hugging the contours of the cliff, curling along its crest. When they were completed, they would enclose two courtyards, an outer and inner bailey, both with their own gate towers, and where the cliff stood steepest, the foundations of the new keep were already being dug. There was even a water diviner with his hazel rods, testing for water in the inner courtyard. I watched how the twigs twisted and leaped as he held them before him, walking to and fro.

  'Aye,' Master Edward said, noticing my interest, 'there's water in plenty beneath this rock. And so I told Sir Renier.'

  'You told him that?' I asked, dismayed.

  'I only told him what he could see for himself,' he said evenly. 'We are not fools. I also told him that I once had heard in England such a castle cost more than six hundred pounds to build. Pounds English, that is,' he added, as if that made the figure more reasonable. 'I did not tell him, you understand, that within two years the castle was inhabitable. Let him think we lack for wells, that the two that were here were too fouled for use. And let him think we go as slowly as we can, so as not to spread alarm among those Norman lords. But remember yourself that the building season this summer has been long. We'll easily top our record of twelve feet of stone a year. And, since the foundations of the gate towers were not destroyed and we can use old stone at the topmost layer, we'll have you in them before the autumn rains fill our new wells.'

  He paused for breath, went on more slowly, outlining his plans. Already you could see the difference where the new white stones stopped, the old gray ones had been added on. And when we reached the topmost layer, where masons were busy with plumb line and rule, I saw for the first time the true strength of Sieux. Although not built to a part of its height, on a clear day like this, it had command of the whole countryside. When it was complete, no army, no column of men, no single traveler, could move unseen across those grassy plains, from the distant hills to the river's sweep. A gateway then between north and south, and Sieux guarded it.

  As if guessing my thoughts, the master mason said, 'Sieux was once the strongest castle in these parts. And this is a region known for castle building. The cost is great, but the work will be sound. I know my trade. I have worked in stone, both church and keep, from childhood, and what I learned, my father taught. And he, in turn, studied with the engineers, as they are called, who went from Anjou to the Holy Land when its Count, Fulk, fought on crusade. There were many secrets in Outremer, and castle building is but one of them. My father taught me how to build for strength, but from church records I have learned how to add comfort, too. Yet, Lady Ann, I dare say this: no castle is strong, however high its walls or deep its wells or thick its keep, unless the man who is lord of it makes of it what he should. This has been a hard homecoming for you. And a hard childbearing, God knows. And for Count Raoul bitter enough to have daunted a lesser man. You and your son will be a joy to him. He will need your comfort in the months ahead. Sir Renier is but the first to come visiting. They'll all be curious to see our work, those Norman lords, they'll soon come snooping around.' And he spat in contempt. 'But I, I and my men, we live to do you service, now and at your need.'

  A kind man. Master Edward, and wise, diplomatic in his way as Sir Renier. But he too seemed to echo my fears. And the queen's warning ran in my head, so I could not ignore it. Keep your husband safe. How I longed too for that. But to keep Sieux safe, and us safe, Raoul would not wait for safety to come to him. If danger threatened, he would seek it out, not hide and trust it would pass him by as another man might. I knew him well, too well to hope he could change. And even Queen Eleanor had warned me once that such men cannot be tamed. He had sent an answer back to a king who would crush him if he could, and I to a queen who did not like to be disobeyed. Neither of us then had given ground, but danger certainly lay ahead.

  'Well,' Master Edward said, as if I had spoken my thoughts aloud, 'lately I have seen Count Raoul with one of his men. They ride at dawn along the river banks . . .'

  There was warning also in his voice. It too said clearly. Leave well alone.

  I paid no heed. Barely stopping to bid him farewell, I hastened to the stable yards, had them saddle me a horse, although they cavilled at it, I being alone. I made them help me mount, then, spurring hard, I rode along the cliff to track Raoul down.

  5

  It had been so long since I had been out that the beauty of the day almost blinded me. Beneath the sun was an autumn chill that made you want to breathe in great gulps of air. At first there were plenty of people for company: workmen hurrying up and down the cliff, villagers gathering in reeds for thatch, cutting grass for one last foddering, and squires practicing in the tilting fields. I watched these for a while, not letting them see me for fear they would question me. Both Matt and Walter had improved, but especially Matt. Not once today did the weighted bag of sand swing round to unseat him as he rode at it. At another end of the great meadow, knights were exercising their chargers. Out they galloped, turned, and wheeled. These too are tricks you must learn if you mount a charge. But all for war and the glory of it, nothing suited for so fair a day.

  I urged my own horse on. The river path wound in and out, the going slower where it was blocked with summer growth. Presently we left the familiar tracks and moved on alone, following the twists and bends of the lake. We brushed past a grove of withy bush, mounted a rise, and looked down upon the placid waters spread below. Soon, when cold weather came, the skies would darken with wild fowl, heading south, as Lord Raoul had once described. Here also today nothing stirred, only my horse and I, breasting through the undergrowth.

  The noise was one, once heard, never forgot. It blinds the eyes, deafens ears, pounds in the blood, the sound of steel on steel singing like a lash. Two men were fighting at the water's edge. On foot alone, in the full sunlight they fought, the sandy verge about them scuffed and torn. One of the men I knew at once. Stripped to the waist, his flesh dr
ipped sweat, shone gold, except where a great scar was curled like a whiplash itself from shoulder to waist along his right side. I knew his style of fighting too, the back-handed slash, the way he lunged with sword point (not many Normans like to stab) and the speed with which he turned and leaped. His opponent I did not know, then I thought I did. Dressed all in black with his back to me, he reminded me of another man, another time, and for a moment all went dark. I thought I stood in the great courtyard at Sedgemont, a year ago, and heard behind me, as I had heard it then, the mutter of watching men. I felt the cold wind blow, ice cold to bone, and saw again Lord Raoul fighting Guy of Maneth for my sake. I saw them drive themselves, two men met to be judged by God which told the truth.

  If I but open my eyes, I thought . . . But my eyes were open and all was colorless, white like ice or snow or sand. The black figure of Maneth reared up, his sword blade glistening in the sun. Down it sliced. The snow covered ground at Raoul's feet splashed red. I thrust my hand into my mouth to stifle cry. Then sight and color and shape came back, and I knew where I was. True, it was Raoul who fought, but Guy of Maneth was dead, buried these many months, and the other man was one of Raoul's knights, Dillon by name, an old friend. They fought for exercise as companions do. All else was peaceful, their horses tethered in the shade, a hound or two sniffing in the reeds, Raoul's shirt slung upon a bush. And as I watched, he flung down his shield, that long triangular one a man can duck behind, and took up his sword in his right hand. Dillon did the same and, at a sign, both began to fight in earnest now. I had not heard of men fighting so, but I saw Raoul's intent. He set the pace, and being quick on his feet could often outreach his comrade. And once indeed I saw him hold back, as he had done for Maneth, to his own loss. But Dillon was as quick and there was one thing he could do which Raoul could not. And now I saw how Raoul forced himself to it, to raise his right arm above his head, to parry a stroke or sweep down from one. At each pass, I saw him urge Dillon to make the move that he in turn must make the counter one. Each time, defeated, he ducked under the blow or, at best, returned it awkwardly.

  And once, when he turned round, I saw his face. That look made my spirit quail. He willed himself; it was his own weakness he fought. I may be crippled, Ann. I do not know if this arm will heal. This then was his defiance hurled against his enemies, this part of his hidden secrets. He stooped a moment, splashed a handful of water to his mouth. I remember how he used to move, to fight, a cat that leaped with muscled grace. He straightened, wiped his hands upon his sides, tensed, gave his war cry, that Viking shout, and launched himself once more with all his strength. Dillon's face was equally taut. He knew his lord's weakness like his own, must play to it, yet control his stroke. But now Raoul forced him to fight to defend himself. Unaware, I bit my underlip until the blood ran upon my chin. What if Raoul slipped or buckled beneath the blow, what if Dillon tried and could not turn the blade? Then Raoul leapt forward again. In my mind, I have seen him make that move a hundred times. Up came his right arm. 'Strike down,' he shouted. The other backed, swung up his black-covered arm. Down whistled Dillon's sword. Raoul caught it full upon his own; this time he did not duck or parry, but caught it full and thrust up, using all his shoulder's force, held it above his head, locked into place. You could see the veins stand out, the muscles tense. Then his arm bent. Dillon's sword continued its downward sweep; I saw the line of red start out.

  Not knowing what I did, I hurled myself from my horse, went slithering down the hill, briars catching at my face and arms, pebbles and dirt showering beneath my feet. They did not hear me, still intent about their work, nor did they see me, backs toward the land. I caught Dillon about the waist, hauled at his arm with all my weight, dug in my teeth wherever I could reach, clawed with my nails. He gave a great cry of alarm, back-handled me, clutched me to him so we both fell together into the lake. Head over heels I went, my skirts billowing out else I would have sunk up to my neck. Beside me Dillon floundered to his knees, mouthed and sputtered, flailed for his sword. On the bank, Raoul, still staggering from surprise, himself plastered with mud and wet, watched as if struck dumb; a fine sight, his companion and wife wallowing in the reed bed.

  The oath he let out I'll not repeat. It scorched my ears. Nothing worse than the ones Dillon let fall. I felt myself flame with disgrace, every womanly precept broke at once. To come between lord and man is bad enough; to dispute him at sword point folly beyond belief. Poor Dillon. Spitting out mouthfuls of sand, liberally festooned with duckweed, he dragged himself out upon the bank, where he sat down heavily, feet still in the water, not having the sense to drag me after him. Spent for breath, he leaned upon his sword and observed me. The hounds, thinking to join in the sport, were already paddling about. It was Raoul at last who hauled me out. I wiped my eyes on the wet corner of my gown, tried to wring out my skirts, tried to make coherent speech. All that came forth was simply this: 'I thought he had killed you.'

  'Mother of God,' it was Dillon who replied. 'I thought rather you who would kill me.'

  He looked at Raoul, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and took up his sword, still dripping with weed, to clean it. Raoul too reached behind him, pulled free his shirt, began to mop the cut running down his arm, not much more than a scratch, no more than those which the thorns had left on me. Neither man looked at me, nor at each other, but I felt a ripple pass between them, gone upon the thought. Unnerved by it, I began to scold.

  'I thought this oaf,’ for so I called Dillon to his face, ‘I thought this lout would tear you apart. I thought you spitted like a piece of meat. How could you let him use you thus?'

  At a jerk from Raoul's head, Dillon clambered upright. 'I tell you what I think . . .' he began, then swallowed hard, took up his shield and leather coat, called off the dogs. Dragging on his horse's rein, he went wearily up the hill. After a while we heard him catch my horse and, leading it, ride off toward the castle grounds. I was left alone with my noble lord.

  The start was quiet enough. 'So, lady,' he says, not looking at me, staring straight ahead, legs apart, wiping at his arm, 'you think to become an expert with a sword, when to thrust perhaps, how to use a shield. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember when you were but a child, you tried to hack my heart out and nearly took you own. A swordsman now is it I have as wife, as no doubt last night you played at courtier.'

  I knew the sound of that voice very well, low, almost pleasant. He might have smiled. Beneath, the calm was ominous. I said not a word, sat still, wringing out my clothes.

  'Well, well,' he said, pulling his shirt over his head, his voice muffled by its folds, 'a brand new weapon for our use, your head, with about as much sense in it as a mangonel.'

  I pursed my lips, began to drag off my boots to empty them. They squeaked at every move, my skirts sagged above my knees. 'So let us count the ways,' he said, numbering them upon his fingers, one by one, 'that, in six months of marriage is it yet?, you have been so free with your advice, to toss my men upon their backs, challenge my command, spread scandal throughout Normandy . . .'

  'And give you a son,' I said.

  'Aye, that too,' he said, 'I have not forgotten that. Else should I have pushed you back to drown, fit ending for such a scold. Count that debt well paid. God's wounds, girl, are you not abashed? Look at you, even your face is streaked with blood.’

  I had forgotten my bitten lip, and tested it gingerly with my tongue.

  'Your Sir Renier would not know you.'

  'He is not my anything,' I replied waspishly, angered at the injustice. 'He merely gave me advice once again when I needed it. As I have reason to suspect he offered it to you.'

  'Which I refused. Then is he well paid to whisper secrets with my wife.'

  'No secrets,' I said, 'except those which you hide. The queen's message to me was simply put, to keep you safe. Which all of Sieux would wish save you yourself.'

  He stared. 'God's wounds,’ he said again, 'you would believe what she says? You are more simple than I tho
ught. I doubt if she has my interest at heart these days. And what else?’

  'That I hie home to Cambray,' I said. 'I am not so simple that I would not welcome it. Better than here. Although for foolishness what place more apt. You will kill yourself before you've done or have Dillon do it for you. Cannot you find other ways to pass time profitably?'

  'I am a soldier,' he said, belting on his sword to prove his point. He snapped his buckle close. 'What else should I do with a right arm? Dig weeds, plough oxen with my peasants in their fields? Write script in a monastery, pray there that my enemies run away? But since you would spy out men's affairs,' he reached out with his right arm, caught the slack folds of my gown, pulled me on my feet, 'feel that,' he said. 'Almost as good as new. Were you a man, you'd not wish to come within reach of it.'

  I thrust my own right arm out, tried to break his grasp. 'And were I a man,' I said, breathless, 'you'd not threaten me. I stand to my word. I thought you hurt, no more, no less. But since you speak of Sir Renier, what do you plot behind my back for Cambray, what for Sieux, that I should learn it from other men? What will Henry do in France that we must protect ourselves from him?'