The Traitor's Daughter

by Munday, April

  Chapter Two

  Edmund’s body behind Alais was totally unyielding. He sat stiffly as far away from her as he could, with his right arm draped loosely around her waist, holding her just tightly enough to keep her steady, but not too tightly to be considered familiar. Alais in turn sat as far away from him as was comfortable and safe. She could hardly blame him for his antagonism; he had also recognised her name, he must know who she was and what her story was and, like everyone else, he could have no regard for a traitor’s daughter. He must hold his lord – Sir William, Hugh’s father – in high esteem and could not bear being this close to her. Alais shuddered slightly, knowing that this would never end; whatever else she might be she would always be the daughter of a traitor.

  It was not long before Edmund’s horse was moving among people fleeing on foot. Most of them were too scared to notice the horse, but those who did moved out of the way as quickly as possible. Some of the crowd, seeing that he was mounted and armed, shouted at him to go back and fight the French, but Edmund did not respond, although he tightened his grip on Alais, until she had to ask him to loosen it before she could no longer breathe. She could feel his anger at being called a coward and almost offered to take her chances in the crowd so that he could go back and fight. Edmund slowed the horse in his efforts to avoid trampling people. Their fear affected the horse and Edmund struggled to control him. Alais realised that it was difficult for him to manage with her perched in front of him. Although the horse was big, he was not a warhorse, like the steed of Sir Hugh. Sir Hugh’s horse would have been trained to walk through frightened and screaming people in a battle as if he were walking through a quiet country lane on a spring morning. Edmund’s horse, however, became more nervous and kept trying to dance away from the noisiest people in the crowds. Alais knew that Edmund would never set her down among the crowd, it could be very dangerous, even though he was armed, but there was still the danger that the horse would throw them. Impetuously, she leaned forward and began to smooth the horse’s neck and speak to him. Edmund tightened his grip on her still further, but she placed her hand over his and pulled it back slightly, so that she could lean forward even more. “My lady,” he began, but stopped as he noticed the horse start to calm down. She placed one hand on the saddle and he let go of her entirely so that she could stretch out along the horse’s neck and they walked on at a sedate pace.

  Alais did not dare look back in case she saw more Frenchmen. In these narrow streets there would not be room for anyone to run and they would be massacred. Even Edmund would be at risk with so little room for manoeuvre. It took them a while to make their way through the streets towards the narrow Bar Gate to the north of the town. Alais gradually began to recognise familiar streets and houses. Once through the gate, the crowds thinned as people ran in different directions, seeking safety and help and, as they reached the fields beyond the town, Edmund was able to push the horse faster and they began to leave the fleeing people behind.

  Edmund was silent throughout the rest of the journey and Alais had no wish to start a conversation. Once they had left the town behind, there was no more need for her to calm the horse and she returned to her position in front of Edmund. He returned his hand to her waist and she found herself distracted by a thought about the tall knight. She found herself wishing that she was riding with the knight and not with the servant. It was true that Sir Hugh’s warhorse would have provided a more comfortable ride, but she imagined that he would have held her close and that his body would be more accommodating than Edmund’s. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she realised how uncomfortable she was and shifted. Edmund grunted and gave her more room. She also knew that if she had been riding with Sir Hugh they would have talked all the way. There would have been no need for her to leave his arms to talk to his horse and he would have held her safely all the while. It was not that she did not feel safe with Edmund, just that she felt that he did not approve of her, or had taken an instant dislike to her, not, of course, that she cared what a servant thought about her, but it did seem important that Sir Hugh’s servant should hold her in some regard.

  Alais glanced back at the burning town and wondered if Sir Hugh was safe. Had he found her mother yet? Then she remembered Peter, the servant who had stayed with them when their escort had returned to Leigh. She could not bear to think of either of them hacked down by a vicious French sword, but now no other thought seemed able to lodge in her head. She tried to distract herself again by thinking about Sir Hugh, but she could only worry about whether or not he had been killed before he could find Lady Eleanor. When it was not occupied with those thoughts, her mind kept going back to the last time she had seen her mother. A sudden disturbance at the back of the church had made her turn around and look, when she should have been paying attention to what the priest was doing at the altar. She had been horrified to see armed men pour into the church and start cutting at the people standing at the back of the church. They had fallen, stained by their own blood. It had been so quick that they had died without crying out. Alais almost doubted what she was seeing, but the amount of blood could not be denied. Other worshippers became aware of what was happening and began to scream and cry. She watched as the men set fire to the church. As it started to burn, she suddenly understood that she should be afraid and she was.

  Her mother had turned to look at the same time. They had been standing near the front of the church and, shielding her daughter with her own body, Lady Eleanor pushed Alais behind the rood screen, out of sight of the invaders. And Alais had followed the servers out through the priest’s door, picked up her skirts and run away as quickly as possible. Her mother’s last words to her had been, “Run and do not look back!” Even whispered, they had carried all the force of her love for her daughter. As always, Alais had obeyed her mother, although the temptation to stay and try to protect her had been almost overwhelming.

  It was only when she got out into the street and heard the screams and the shouts and loud French voices shouting out orders that she realised that it was the invasion they had feared. Since King Edward had declared war on France the year before, they had thought that the French must surely invade by the south coast, even if the king himself had not given it much thought. Leigh was only six miles inland and they had spent the last few months making the manor more secure. Even before the war, her uncle Giles had always made sure the servants knew something about swordplay, although they had precious few swords if it should come to a fight. All her brothers had died, so there was no one else to defend the manor and the village. Uncle Giles was too old to be much help, but he was a good strategist and had worked out a number of ways that they could defend the manor if it came to a fight. He had always wanted her father to build a moat round the manor house and now he had had his way. She had been upset that the old soldier had not been able to travel with them and had been left behind at Leigh, but now she was glad. When the French reached Leigh, they would find more there than they expected.

  Peter, the servant who had brought them to Southampton, had worn his sword at all times and not just because of the French. These were dangerous times. Outlaws and landless men roamed the woods and forests. They had not expected to meet any on such a short journey, but they had thought it best to be prepared. She had wondered briefly what had happened to Peter, but realising that he was at the back of the church with the other servants, she knew that he would not have stood a chance when the French rushed in. Of course, he had not even brought his sword to church. No one could have imagined that even the profane French would have dared to enter churches and start killing those at mass.

  She had very quickly lost sight of the boys she was following and was on her own in streets that she did not recognise. She had had no idea which was the best way to run. For all she knew she could be running straight into the French. She had had no time to think, only to act. That brought her up short – she would not act out of fear. Uncle Giles had told her often enough that fear led to bad decisions
. She had looked into the sky and, finding the sun, turned herself so that it was to her right. It was mid-morning so north, where the main gate in and out of the town was situated, was now in front of her. The wharves, and the French, were behind her. Now she ran.

  She had not run very far before she had run into Sir Hugh and Edmund and she knew, that but for their help, she would now be lying dead or worse. She shivered and Edmund wrapped his cloak around her as well. “Thank you,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. They continued in silence.

  The village was very close and Alais very soon found herself set down outside a small moated manor house, surrounded by sturdy stone walls. Edmund gave his horse to a young boy who had been watching down the road. “What’s happening down there?” the boy asked, pointing back along the road, along which people were starting to appear as they ran from the town.

  Edmund and Alais turned back. The flames were clearly visible even from this slight vantage point. “The French are invading,” Edmund said, brusquely. The boy crossed himself, turned quickly and walked off with the horse.

  Edmund led her into the manor house. A short, thin man in his late thirties came to meet them. “This is Matthew,” Edmund introduced the steward. “Matt, this is Lady Alais de Montjoye.”

  The steward’s eyes opened wide and he hid his confusion by bowing low.

  “I thought you were going straight to Liss when you found her and where’s Hugh and Lady Eleanor?” He frowned up at the younger man, then glanced again at Alais, as if she might have the answers.

  “The French are invading,” Edmund said again, although he still seemed to be having trouble believing it. “Hugh stayed in town to fight them. He bade me bring Lady Alais to safety.”

  This time Matthew did not bother to hide his concern. “The French?” he said, “Marion.”

  “I’m sure Hugh will look out for her,” said Edmund, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “She’s his daughter,” he explained to Alais.

  “Is your daughter in the town?” asked Alais.

  “Yes. She married the son of a wine merchant.”

  Alais realised that there was not much hope for Matthew’s daughter. The wine merchants lived near the quayside and their church and homes would have been amongst the first things attacked by the French. Matthew seemed to gather himself together and remember his duties. “Come in, my lady.” He led her into the hall and preceded her to the dais, where he indicated that she should sit in the lord’s chair. She sank into the softly cushioned chair with a sigh. Then she watched as the well-trained household sprang into action. A young boy appeared from what she knew must be the kitchens. He carried a bowl of water and had a linen cloth over his shoulder. She washed the dirt of her flight from her hands and dried them on the cloth. Then the bowl was offered to Edmund. As soon as her hands were dry another boy appeared carrying two mugs. He bowed solemnly and presented one to Alais and one to Edmund. They each took their small beer and drank deeply. Alais handed her empty mug back to the boy and he looked at the steward as if confused. Alais realised that he had not expected her to drain it in one swallow, but her exertions and her fear had made her thirsty. The steward nodded and the boy hurried away, returning almost immediately with another mug, which he gave to Alais. She thanked him, took a sip and placed it on the boards of the table, to show that she would not be quite so intemperate this time. She realised that it had tasted good and it would be a shame not to take her time over the second mug. Matthew shooed the boy away and Alais was left alone with the two men. Edmund had also drained his mug. The two men looked at one another uneasily. Alais knew that the steward at least would have duties to attend to, but he would see it as inhospitable to desert her in his lord’s absence.

  “I know that you must have much to do,” she said to Matthew, “Please do not worry about me. I can remain here until Sir Hugh returns, unless there is some task that I can do for you.”

  “No, thank you, Lady Alais. I am afraid that the best we can do is to leave you alone.”

  Alais smiled up at them both. “Then that is most acceptable.”

  Both men left. She guessed Edmund had returned to the courtyard of the manor house to look out over the town and Matthew to worry about his daughter while he readied the house for the return of his lord’s son.

  Relishing her comparative security, she turned her attentions to the hall of the manor house. It was a neat room with fresh rushes on the floor. A small fire burned in the hearth to ward off the damp of autumn. Despite the fire, everything was clean, not blackened by the soot. Although it was a wooden house, she did not think it was very old. The benches were lined up neatly with the trestle tables and the tables themselves looked as if they were scrubbed every day. There was a small tapestry behind the lord’s chair. Alais began to wonder at her husband’s wealth if he could afford to have such a thing in the hall of his most minor estate. It was beautiful and finely wrought. She smoothed her fingers gently over the surface and felt the changes in the fabric where the colours changed. It depicted a hunting scene and she wondered whether Sir William considered this house as nothing more than a hunting lodge. Certainly it was well-situated to accompany the king on hunting trips in his New Forest.

  She wondered why she and her mother had not been invited to spend the night here on their way to Liss, rather than stay in the town with friends. It had been no hardship; the de Montjoyes usually stayed with Roger and Margaret when they had goods to sell or buy in Southampton, but it would have been more fitting to their status to spend the night here, with Sir William’s son. They had not been aware that he owned property near the town.

  “My lady?”

  Alais turned from her contemplation to see a female servant. She inclined her head slightly to show that she was aware of her presence.

  “Matthew has asked me to look after you, since you have brought no one with you.”

  Again, Alais inclined her head to acknowledge the truth of the statement. She had not considered the journey to be long enough or difficult enough to bring a maid with her and she had assumed that her husband would provide a maid once she arrived at her new home.

  “I have made arrangements for a bath to be brought to you. And if you permit I will see what I can do with your dress.”

  Alais had not thought how she must look, but she followed the servant’s gaze down her skirt and realised that it was filthy. Her hem was black from the dirt in the streets where she had been running and there were smudges spotted over it which must have been smuts from the fires. She nodded again, sure that whatever the servant could do, short of washing her dress, would be an improvement. As she continued the thought her hand went to hair.

  “I will do what I can with your hair,” smiled the woman, “but I have had no lady to care for since Lady Maud died.”

  Alais knew Lady Maud had been Sir Hugh’s mother, the woman she had replaced. Strange that she had thought about Sir Hugh, rather than his father, her husband. Lady Maud had been dead these four years.

  “What is your name?” asked Alais, “Should I need to send for you?”

  “Sarah.”

  “Do you need my clothes now, or will there be sufficient time when the bath is ready?”

  “I will take them while you bathe, my lady”

  Alais smiled and the woman left. Alais knew that this was an attempt on the steward’s part to distract her from the very real danger in which they were from the French. At any moment she expected to hear Edmund running and calling for her to leave immediately. It would be a shame if she had to leave her bath!

  Alais began to look forward to the bath. She had not expected one on their journey to Liss, which would only last four or five days. It was an unexpected luxury and she decided to make the most of it.

  She watched from the big chair as the servants began to make the bath ready, first bringing the wooden tub into the screened area behind the dais where Sir William must sleep and then bringing vast quantities of hot water. She realised tha
t the kitchens must be larger than she had thought. Soon the bath was ready for her and she followed Sarah behind the screen.

  Steam was rising voluptuously from the hot water. Sarah asked Alais which of the herbs and lotions lined up on the floor beside the bath she would like to have added to the water and then followed her directions.

  Without waiting for Sarah to leave, Alais undressed and eased herself into the bath waving away Sarah’s attempt to assist her. The temperature of the water was perfect. The lotions and the ointments and soaps had the desired effect and her body began to relax, even if her mind could not. She slowly washed the smell of the fire from her skin and her hair.