The Traitor's Daughter

by Munday, April

  The steward led her once more to the lord’s chair and she sat. Almost immediately, some servants appeared with some bread and cheese and a cup of small beer. It appeared, however, that Matthew had decided to wait on her himself, as he took everything from the servants and offered it to her.

  “Please, Matthew, you must have many other, more important, things to do. You need not wait on me. I can find you if I need you.” Alais knew that their own steward at Leigh would have been busy that morning if the nearby town had been under attack. She did not want to have Sir Hugh’s manor disrupted for her sake.

  “My lady, Sir Hugh will be most displeased if I do not take proper care of you.”

  “Matthew, I have not received better care in my own house. Sir Hugh’s hospitality has been prompt and generous. I have wanted for nothing since I arrived. I shall be happy if you leave a boy and attend to your other duties. I do not want to keep you from anything important.”

  “If you please, my lady, with my lord expected at any moment, I have no pressing duties and my place is here until he comes.”

  Alais considered a moment and saw that Matthew was correct in his assessment of his priorities and made no further objection. Instead, she finished her meal, inviting the steward to sit with her. He refused, but was happy to answer her questions about the manor and the way that it was run. She was glad to be able to return the favour of distracting him from his more pressing worries and also learned a great deal about the kind of man that her rescuer was. Although he did not seem to be a natural farmer, he was wise enough to take his steward’s good advice and the crops and animals did well. Matthew did not seem to be trying to hide his lord’s shortcomings and that pleased Alais. It seemed to her that Matthew had the proper respect for his lord, but did not go in fear of him, which was as it should be.

  Like the meal the evening before, the bread and cheese were delicious and Alais could not stop herself having two more cups of the small beer. She complimented Matthew on his brewster.

  “Sarah,” he explained. “It did not seem right to set her to heavy work when Lady Maud died, so we taught her how to brew and bake. She looks after the still-room and the herb garden as well.”

  Alais smiled, the still-room was her own special province at Leigh.

  Edmund came back into the hall. “Has Sir Hugh returned yet?” she asked him, beginning to rise from her chair.

  “No, I expect him at first light. The fires are out, so it should be safe to go back.” Alais had not realised that it was still not light outside. It would be quite dark in this hall even in summer. She continued with her meal and once Matthew had cleared everything from the table, Alais walked outside. In the grey of the pre-dawn she looked down the road, half expecting to see the tall knight on his bay warhorse coming towards her. She felt rather than heard or saw Edmund move up bedside her and they looked down the road together.

  Alais found herself wondering now what would happen if Sir Hugh did not appear. Would Edmund abandon his charge and go into the town to find him, or would he send the stable boy? Would they still be able to keep Matthew from running away to find his daughter? Edmund had not spoken to her, except to answer her questions, so she had no idea of his character, but, so far, he had obeyed his lord’s command, so she had no reason to believe that he would abandon her now.

  “He will come,” she heard herself saying. “He must come.”

  She heard him before she saw him, just as the first light of day began to appear in the east and then he was with them in the courtyard. Edmund let out a deep sigh and she almost reached out for his hand to join in his relief. As the horseman drew closer, she saw that he was not alone. Someone sat awkwardly in front of him on the horse. Gradually Alais could tell that it was a young woman and, although it would surely have been easier for them both if she sat astride the horse, she sat perched awkwardly sideways in front of Sir Hugh and it looked as if Sir Hugh was doing all the work to keep her on the horse. As they came into the courtyard, Alais saw that it was a young woman heavy with child. The woman seemed unaware of where she was and her eyes were unfocused.

  “Marion!”

  The young woman made no signs of recognising her name; she did not even turn her expressionless face towards her father who had rushed from the house to help the girl down.

  “She is unhurt, Matthew,” explained Sir Hugh as he lowered her gently into her father’s waiting arms. “She was obviously too unwell to go to Mass yesterday morning. I found her in the wreckage of their home. She has not said a word since I found her.” Sir Hugh met Alais’ eyes and she knew it was to avoid looking at Matthew, for he too would have seen in them what she did. Sir Hugh was lying. He could not lie often, for he did it so badly. She wondered if the girl had told him anything or whether, like herself, she had at first mistaken him for a Frenchman and been terrified and rendered speechless.

  Now it was getting light, Alais could see that Marion’s clothes and skin were covered in soot. As she slid from the horse, her cloak parted slightly and Alais saw that her clothes had been torn. Realising the truth that Sir Hugh was trying to hide she looked up again and he lowered his eyes to show that he knew she understood. Surely, he did not think he could keep the truth from Matthew forever?

  “Piers?” asked the steward, holding his daughter to him, oblivious to the silent exchange.

  Sir Hugh shook his head and the steward bit his lip. “He was a good man.”

  Matthew walked slowly and carefully back into the manor house, speaking softly to Marion, as he carried her in his arms. Alais half turned to follow them, to see what help she could give, before she remembered that this was not her place, they were not her people and she had had her own reasons for waiting in the dark. She looked back expectantly towards Sir Hugh who had now dismounted. He patted his horse affectionately, then returned her gaze. He seemed to be having difficulty staying on his feet, swaying slightly. He was just as filthy as Marion. Something about him had changed. He was no longer the man who had rushed off unthinkingly to a fight; there was a hardness to him that had not been there yesterday. Alais tried not to think what he might have seen or done to bring about that change.

  “Did you get any sleep last night, my lord?” All through the journey here with Edmund, through the time she was looking after the townspeople, through the long evening and night she had thought about this moment and this was not the question that she had planned to ask. Strong knight though he undoubtedly was, he seemed to her to be the one in need of help just then.

  He shook his head and gazed into the distance. “No. There was too much to do. It was as if hell opened and spilled a little bit of itself onto the town. It was not enough for them to kill and pillage. They maimed and destroyed and…and…” his voice fell to a stunned whisper, “And they enjoyed it.” He straightened himself, as if shaking off the memory. “Once we had seen off the French the looters started their filthy work.”

  The sudden silence stretched around them. She had moved closer, thinking he might fall from his weariness. Sir Hugh had turned back from whatever had taken his attention while he was speaking and they now stood face to face.

  There was a noise behind him and they both started as the boy appeared to take the horse, but Sir Hugh shook his head and ruffled the hair on the boy’s head, although Alais thought it was less a sign of affection than a way of pulling himself back to the present. “Not this time, Tom,” he said, “I am going straight out again. Can you get a horse for Lady Alais.”

  “Already done,” muttered the boy. He blushed when Sir Hugh smiled his appreciation.

  “Did you beat the French, sir?”

  “Yes, the French are gone. I am afraid there are none left for you to fight.”

  Tom grinned up at Sir Hugh and ran off to get the horses. Edmund, having waited for Sir Hugh to deal with his guest, now went up to him and grasped him warmly by the shoulders. Sir Hugh retuned his welcome, then broke away reluctantly and turned back towards Alais.

  “I am
afraid I have some bad news for you.”

  Alais hugged herself as if that would afford some protection from what Sir Hugh was going to say.

  “I found your mother and she lives, though she is very badly wounded. I fear we must take a priest with us when we return.” Alais shuddered, her initial joy shattered by his final words. “I would not take you there at all,” he continued, “but for the chance that your mother will still be alive when we arrive.”

  Alais nodded. It was no more than she had feared. At least her mother would not die unshriven like so many who had fallen the day before. Sir Hugh turned back to Edmund.

  “Can you raise Father Roland from his bed? I fear there are too few priests in the town for the work that must be done there this day.”

  Edmund nodded and strode off towards the church and the little house that stood beside it. A servant appeared and forced bread and cheese on his young lord, which Sir Hugh ate standing where he was. Realising that it would be a while before they were ready to leave, Alais said, “May I go and see what help I can give to Marion?”

  Sir Hugh showed his surprise, but also his relief and he gave his permission willingly. “And perhaps you, my lord….” She stopped; it seemed outrageous that she should dare to give the older knight advice.

  “And perhaps I, my lady?” he encouraged her, smiling slightly.

  “Perhaps you might take a few moments to rest. All seems ordered enough.”

  He smiled more fully and Alais’ heart lifted. How odd that a stranger’s smile should do that to her.

  “I am afraid not, my lady, but I thank you for your concern. I have much to organise before we leave, for I see we have visitors from the town and I have orders to give… Well, I have much to do.” His face was serious once more. He bowed to her and walked away to the barn where the remaining townspeople were beginning to stir.

  Looking after him, Alais thought that even his walk looked tired, but his coming had restored her and she felt she was ready for what was to come, strengthened by the knowledge that he would be there with her.

  Alais went into the house and asked the first servant she came across where the steward was. He led her to a room where Matthew was pacing distractedly, while a female servant tended to Marion. Alais recognised the woman who had marshalled the healing efforts the previous afternoon.

  “Can I help?” At her words, the steward crossed the room to her.

  “Please, my lady, you need not.”

  “It is no trouble. We are not ready to leave yet.”

  She looked at the woman. It seemed that everyone conspired to keep the true state of affairs from Matthew, for she responded immediately to Alais’ offer. “My lady, I need to wash her and change her clothes and put her to bed. I cannot do that while Matthew remains.”

  Alais turned to the steward again and took one of his hands in hers. Looking him directly in the eye, so that he would understand, she said, “She will be much more comfortable in bed, Matthew.”

  “I cannot leave her, my lady. She and my grandson are all I have left.”

  Alais’ stomach turned. Surely Sir Hugh would have brought the boy if he still lived, even if he was badly injured. That thought did not seem to have occurred to Matthew and Alais was grateful. There would be time enough for grief later.

  “It would be as well to permit us to attend to her needs and then return once she is abed. There is nothing you can do now.”

  “She is my child.” The steward’s voice was pleading and Alais’ heart sank. How could she ask him to leave Marion when she needed him most? It was probably best not to say that Marion was completely unaware of her father’s presence and would not notice whether he was there or not.

  “Please let us tend to her. You need only wait outside and we can call you if we need you.”

  At last the man moved away and left the women alone. Alais looked around and realised that this was the manor’s still-room.

  “Thank you, my lady.” The servant immediately set to work undressing the girl and Alais went to help her.

  “Do you mean to tend her here and have her carried to the steward’s house to sleep?”

  “Yes, my lady. This is near enough for them to bring water for a bath. I thought to bathe her first, for cleansing and then a salve for her bruises and cuts. Then a potion for forgetfulness.”

  Neither of them spoke of what Marion must forget, though Alais thought that there was little chance of her remembering what had happened to her, her husband or her son. Nonetheless, she set herself to helping the woman, who seemed more prepared to accept her assistance than she had the day before. Although she was desperate to see her mother and counted every second spent here rather than with her a loss, Alais worked to the best of her considerable ability. Marion had also suffered because of the French and she prayed that as she was helping Marion, so someone was helping Lady Eleanor, for Sir Hugh must have left her with people he trusted. By the time the stable boy came to tell her that everything was ready in the yard, Marion had been bathed and her many wounds attended to and helped into a clean shift. Alais left the servant to administer the potion for forgetfulness, saying another prayer for its efficacy as she left the room.

  Hugh watched Alais walk into the manor house and marvelled that a woman who had been through what she had been through could still think to offer help to a servant’s daughter. He allowed himself a moment’s rest by leaning against the wall of the barn, allowing his eyes to close for a few moments. He was tired, but could not permit himself the rest he needed. There was too much to be done and now that his steward was incapable, he would have to do much of it himself. As he rested, his thoughts turned to Lady Alais. How calm and composed she seemed this morning, far removed from the screaming harridan he had met less than twenty-four hours previously. Now she carried herself with assurance. She, too, looked tired and he guessed that she had had a restless night. Nonetheless she was clean and tidy and looked like the nobleman’s daughter that she was. Doubtless she had busied herself with the affairs of the manor in his absence. The thought crossed his mind that she and Matthew would make a good team to run his manor and it made him smile. Despite his first, immediate impression of her as a scared and helpless woman he now saw that there was much more to her than that. Then, she had been desperate for help and, now that he had seen what had been done in the town, he could only be surprised that she had kept her sanity. As the day had gone on he had been more impressed with her as his thoughts turned more often to her than they should.

  It had been her face that had kept him going through the dreadful day and night since he had last seen her. Her hope in him had inspired him. He knew it was wrong and he knew it imperilled his mortal soul, but there was something about this woman that met a need in him. It was as if she was the beacon of light in the dark world into which he had had been immersed for so long. He shook his head; his own private darkness seemed nothing in comparison to the darkness he had witnessed the day before. He had seen things in this raid that he had never seen as a soldier and hoped never to see again.

  Hugh was proud to be a soldier, even a paid soldier. It was all he had ever wanted and he had worked hard, both on testing his courage and on building his physical strength. In his time as a page at court he had listened to discussions and had himself discussed strategies of past battles and he had learned and grown until he was confident in his abilities, until the time had come for him to be tested.

  While others sought riches and worldly goods, he wanted only to serve his king in the field of battle. This war with the French seemed to be what he had been waiting for. He had been a knight with few resources save physical strength and courage, a second son, whose older brother had grown into a healthy man. His only concerns were to prove his own and his king’s honour and to gain as much wealth as he could from tournaments and soldiering. He had certainly gained wealth from tournaments, but honour had proved more elusive.

  With his brother’s death everything had changed and being a sold
ier was no longer the simple path to glory and wealth it had once seemed to be. Now it was more of a burden and he had regretted not staying with Edward in France.

  Even today, he had not been able to go into battle solely for the fight. He had first to fulfil his promise to Alais. Later, when he had understood the nature of the battle he was fighting, he had seen there would be no glory in it for anyone.

  He had fought the Scots for Edward and he knew what a battle was like, but this had not been a battle. He had quickly discovered that he was not fighting experienced or trained soldiers and that the French had not expected to meet resistance of any kind, let alone the skilled resistance that he had offered. It had not been difficult for him to rally the burgesses and townspeople once he had demonstrated that the French could be beaten. Once the initial panic was over, he had sent out men to gather up those who had managed to escape, but as they began to push the French back towards their boats he had been horrified by what he had seen. The French had not come to conquer or even to return to France with the spoils of war, but they had come to kill and to maim and to destroy and to spread fear. The streets were littered with dead bodies – men, children, women, animals. Warehouses had been torched and wool burned and wine casks destroyed, spilling their contents into the river. He could have forgiven it if he had known that some of the spoils of war had gone back to France to be consumed there, but it appeared that everything had been destroyed where it was. The English looters were the only thieves here. Hugh had left that problem for the burgesses to resolve themselves, for the looters were their own people.

  To Hugh, this had been a cowardly raid, not simply because it had been carried out in the expectation that there would be little or no opposition, but because it targeted the weak and defenceless. He had killed women and children in the past when it had been unavoidable, but he had never gone out of his way to kill them and he had always done so with a heavy heart. There was no glory to be had in fighting the defenceless. What did it prove if he was stronger than a woman or a child?