Vachel thanked the prince and bowed his way out. He kept his expression sober, even a little troubled, until he was safe in the niche that was his in his lodging. Then he let himself smile. There was no need to look for a patron at court, he had a patron, and one more exalted than he would have dared seek on his own…and his duties were deliciously to his taste.
In addition, the duty his patron demanded of him would give him his revenge on Alex. The letter would be useless because the intended receiver would be dead. And who knew what else could be managed. If Alex had preceded him to Sir Simon’s keep and was still there, it could be possible that blame for Sir Simon’s sad demise might be cast that way. It was an amusing thought.
Stretching out on his pallet, Vachel sighed with pleasure. However, he barely had time to savor the joys to come and was contemplating the competing attractions of a whorehouse and an alehouse with willing servers when the henchman who had brought him to the prince again arrived at his lodging. The man carried a full purse, which made Vachel’s eyes widen with satisfaction. Unfortunately, the henchman also carried orders for Vachel to pack and leave for England at once.
Shocked, Vachel protested that February was no month for voyages on the sea.
The henchman stood by the door and said only, “Pack or go without, but go you will.”
So Vachel did go, but not, as he hoped and the captain promised, to Southampton, which was only a half-day’s ride from Roselynde. No sooner were they far enough out to sea to make turning back more dangerous than going forward, than a storm struck and drove them east and farther east, until after two horrendous days, they made port at Dover.
Remembering on whose account he had taken Vachel as passenger, the captain found a decent alehouse where Vachel could shelter until he had recovered from the rough crossing. Moreover the landlord, who had once been a man-at-arms and traveled widely on the south coast, said there was a reasonably easy coast road that would take a traveler west at least as far as Southampton.
The landlord, a grizzled man with a bad limp, was very willing to describe the sea road and the keeps along the way. Vachel hardly listened until he heard a familiar word. Lewes Castle, inland from Newhaven, the landlord said, had a castellan always glad of news and gossip from France.
Lewes! How convenient, Vachel thought. Before he did anything that could get him into trouble, he could discover whether Nicolaus of Lewes had had instructions from Prince John to offer him shelter and protection.
Vachel’s fears, however, seemed to have been bred of his own suspicious mind. When he arrived at Lewes Keep, he was welcomed warmly by the steward, shown to a wall chamber warmed by a brazier and furnished with a well-padded cot and a chest. When he had washed and changed into dry clothing—it had not been raining for a change, but the roads were still fetlock deep in mud—the steward was waiting to take him up to the solar where Sir Nicolaus himself welcomed him.
“Have you just come from Roselynde?” he asked grinning, after the polite exchanges had been made. “Should I ask after the health of our much-loved and greatly esteemed sheriff?”
“I have not yet been to Roselynde,” Vachel said quickly. He shrugged, trying to look at ease while Nicolaus’s smile faded. “A winter crossing. We were blown all the way to Dover and I am just making my way west.”
“But your plans to visit Roselynde and …ah…make yourself known to your uncle are unchanged?”
“Oh, yes.” Vachel smiled. “Moreso than ever after your kind welcome to me and your interest in my well-doing.”
“I am so glad to hear that. Sir Simon’s diligence in his office of sheriff and loyalty to the king are legendary.”
“And sometimes inconvenient.”
Sir Nicolaus smiled but did not answer that directly, saying only, “He should be rewarded by the visit of an affectionate nephew.” And then asked, “Will you be honoring us as a guest for long?”
“Alas, a few days only. My chance to take ship came rather suddenly and I left without some herbs I usually carry with me—for a posset that helps me sleep.”
Sir Nicolaus nodded in understanding and changed the subject to news about King Louis’s court in France.
Chapter Five
Alex soon discovered that he had been needlessly concerned about being alone with Desiree. When he had finished breaking his fast and fetched the lists from his chamber, they had gone down together to the small inner bailey where the storage sheds crouched against the walls. Desiree pulled up the chain fastened to her belt that held the ring of keys to all the locks in Exceat and called out to a passing manservant, who, at her command, drew in several more.
By the time the door was unlocked, Alex felt ten times a fool. To check what was stored, about half of it would have to be moved out, and naturally Lady Desiree would not do the moving. Of course there would be servants with them. Fortunately, Lady Desiree had not been party to Alex’s thoughts and she was briskly ordering the servants to move and replace items to which she pointed on the list she had taken from Alex.
She might have noticed his embarrassment, but her attention was taken up by the discovery of gnawed holes in two sacks of wheat. Imprecations were showered on the ubiquitous mice and rats and one of the servants was sent off to ask her maid, Eadgyth, to get more rat’s bane from the still house.
“One cannot leave the door open so the cats can get in,” she said in an exasperated voice. “That would only be an invitation to a dozen larger pests—not to mention any lazy serf who would rather carry off a sack full of corn than grow it—but you see the result of locking it up. It is not two weeks since I received Sir Simon’s order and already the rats and mice are stealing from us.”
She was totally unselfconscious, a woman in her own rightful place. Alex smiled. “I can remember my mother making just such a plaint.” Involuntarily, his eyes filled.
“You miss being away from your home?”
“No, not Lessai.” Alex shook his head. “My mother…she died just after the first of January.”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” Desiree said, and touched his hand.
She did not allow her fingers to linger, but Alex felt a warmth on his cold skin, though her hand too was cold. Oddly, he continued to feel the warm touch even after she had turned away to the manservant who had returned with a squat clay pot with a carefully stoppered wide mouth.
“Careful,” she warned. “Those cakes are made with monkshood and it can do harm if you only touch it. Use a stick to pull a few out onto the floor near the planks on which the grain rested. Yes, and push a few more under the planks. Good. Let me see.”
She looked into the container and sighed. “When you return this to Eadgyth, tell her to look out the monkshood roots. I can see that we will need more rat’s bane if we store so much.” As the manservant trotted away, she turned her attention back to Alex. “Well, as you see, the contents of the shed match the lists. Everything here is dry and it probably does not matter much how it is stacked.”
“We could probably pile the barrels of apples on the bottom and the bales of hay atop them. That would leave a space two barrels wide right near the door for arrow shafts. The iron for the heads can be stored by the blacksmith.”
“Very well,” Desiree agreed and after a brief silence, blushing faintly said, “From whom does one obtain arrow shafts? I am afraid I do not know.”
“What?” Alex said. Everyone knew that. The fletchers made the shafts themselves. They chose the sticks, scraped off the bark and any unevenness. And then, realizing a woman would have little cause to deal with fletchers, added, “Oh, I am so sorry. I imagine Sir Frewyn…but surely the fletchers…” He stopped as it became clear that she did not even know what a fletcher was. “Ah, well, if you will send someone for your chief huntsman—”
“We do not have a chief huntsman. My father did not think it fitting for me to learn to hunt, and Frewyn…even when he was well, a day’s hunt was too much for him.”
“But surely there was venison in the pasty I ate this morn
ing.”
“Oh, yes. When I want venison, I tell Godric.” She shrugged. “Venison appears.”
Alex hit himself gently in the head. “Of course. I am so sorry to have troubled you with such questions. Godric is so self-effacing that I forget he is here. If you give me leave to do so, I will arrange for arrows and the makings for more. It will be no trouble to me.”
“Then I will be grateful,” Desiree said, smiling now. “I wish to do my share and not overburden you, but I am woefully ignorant about some things.”
Alex returned the smile. “Bows and arrows are more my share than yours, my lady.”
“Bows too?” She backed out of the shed and relocked the door.
“Not your problem.” Alex smiled again. “The bows should be in the armory.” Then he chuckled and shook his head. “And now I think on it very likely arrows and arrow shafts too. I shouldn’t have troubled you and wasted the effort of moving everything around. Perhaps I should consult with Godric before we disturb the other sheds.”
“As you will,” she said at once, and started to turn away, but before Alex could move, she turned back and added, “unless there is something else I can do to help you?”
“No, my lady.” Alex hesitated; Lady Desiree’s expression had not changed, but something about her betrayed disappointment. Before he thought, Alex added, “Not now. I have realized I cannot judge whether supplies are adequate before I even know what else is stored where. I will need to learn from Godric before I know what next I must do.”
“Then I had better go and see if Frewyn is awake and needs me.” She smiled at the servants and bid them go back to their duties, then nodded to him and walked away across the inner bailey.
Alex stood for a moment looking after her. Should he be wary of her disappointment when he curtailed their investigation of the sheds? The thought made him blush and feel ashamed. He was not such a prize that a woman should desire his company. Moreover, there had been nothing in Lady Desiree’s manner to imply any interest in him at all. Her voice, her expression had held nothing beyond common courtesy. But she had been disappointed when he declined to check any more sheds.
From his position beside the storage shed he could see across to the entrance to the forebuilding. Twice a servant stopped her and she paused and made reply, probably to a question, but she did not linger. Only just before she passed the doorway, Alex was sure he saw her shoulders go back and her posture stiffen.
Then he blushed in earnest. What a fool he was. It was not his company she desired but to be free, even for so dull a task as checking supplies, from service to her dying husband. Alex could not blame her. He remembered her gentleness, her smiling face, her easy voice, the tender way she held Sir Frewyn’s limp hand. He remembered his own attendance on his mother. He loved her with all his heart, yet he craved to be away from her suffering.
“Can I help you, m’lord?”
Alex started slightly and realized he had been standing still, looking at nothing. He smiled at the servant who had spoken to him, and really looked at the man. His French was rough but comprehensible. He was lean but not, Alex thought, underfed, decently clothed and not too unclean. And he was not afraid, uncalled, to approach one of the nobility. Good evidence that the servants were not ill-treated here.
“Yes,” Alex said, smiling. “As you must know, I am new come here. Where would I find Godric, the master-at-arms?”
“Most likely at this hour in the outer bailey overseeing the men training. Shall I take you there, m’lord?”
“No. I can find the outer bailey.” And then, remembering the custom of Roselynde…and Lady Desiree’s behavior too he added, “Thank you.”
It had not been the custom in Lessai, although they did not starve or torture the servants, to say please and thank you to them. As he walked toward the outer bailey he considered the results of the treatment. He knew that there was not a servant in Roselynde who would not die on the instant for Lady Alinor. Her attention, her courtesy, made them important in their own eyes and the eyes of the common folk. And that was worth dying for.
In Lessai the servants were obedient and aware that their lives were better than those of the serfs on the land; they might fight to protect the keep in their own self-interest, but they were not devoted. None would make a shield of his own body as he had heard Cedric Southfold had done for Lady Alinor. How much was devotion worth? Certainly a please and a thank-you, which cost nothing at all.
From the shadows within the tunnel through the inner wall, Alex watched the men practice, two lines sparring. From the colors they wore, it was clear that Exceat guard was opposed by Exceat guard, Roselynde man against Roselynde. That was wrong and must be adjusted. What was right was that Byford and Godric were equally attentive to the men in their charge, calling for more energy, walking along the rows of men, occasionally stopping a pair to explain or demonstrate. He stepped out into the bailey.
“Godric. Byford.”
Both men called a halt to the exercise and trotted over.
“I’m glad to see the men at work already,” Alex said. “You have a pair of guards at each station around the wall?”
“Yes, m’lord, as you ordered. One Roselynde man and one Exceat patrolling together,” Byford said. He had never called Alex my lord before. Alex wondered and then the answer came to him. He was the master of Exceat, therefore my lord to the men who served under him. In Roselynde he had been Sir Alex, it was Simon who was my lord.
“Good enough,” Alex said, giving no sign of his gratitude for the reminder that he was the ultimate authority here. “I would like to see the men mixed in practice also—not Roselynde against Exceat, but perhaps paired couples, one man from Roselynde and one from Exceat against one Exceat and one Roselynde. These men must learn to fight together and to rely on each other.”
Alex saw an expression of satisfaction on Byford’s face before it was swiftly masked. Bless the man, Alex thought. He wasn’t going to say “I told you so” to Godric or even try to curry favor by explaining he had suggested such a pattern and Godric had refused. Byford had definite possibilities.
Godric, as usual, had no expression at all. However, Alex had seen that his men were every bit as skilled as those from Roselynde, and his comments on their work had been pithy and beneficial. He did not wish to lose a man with such skills, but he needed someone who could think. Would Godric resent it if he put Byford in overall command?
“I need you to take me around and show me all the preparations for war,” Alex said to him, hoping when he had him alone he could sound him out. “I want to see what weapons are stored and where so I can decide what more we need, if we need more. We will soon be calling in and training villeins’ sons and those of the fisherfolk willing to learn the sword. We will need extra weapons. And I need to know about the defenses for the walls too if there are any.”
“We’ve some, m’lord. I can show you.”
“Good. Will you mind if Byford takes over until you are free again and sets the men to the different practice?”
“Mind? No, m’lord.”
Finally Godric had an expression. He looked surprised by Alex’s question, but he did not go and tell his men to obey Byford. He stood and looked at Alex. Alex drew a short breath.
“Then please tell your men to obey Byford so they will not be confused by his breaking them up and mingling them with the men from Roselynde.”
“For good, m’lord?”
Byford stiffened to attention, looking wary. Alex opened his mouth to assure Godric that he would not lose his place, but what he saw in the man’s face was eagerness and hope.
“Would you prefer that Byford act as chief master-at-arms?” he asked as neutrally as possible. “I have no wish to deprive you of—”
“Oh, yes, m’lord, please! That is what I like. That is what I know. To be second to the master-at-arms.”
“I see.” Alex turned to Byford. “Can you just take over, Byford, or will Godric have to tell them.”
“Good. Just remember, Godric is still in charge of everyday discipline, the condition of arms and armor and suchlike. If forces need to be divided, you will tell him what to do and he will lead the second force. And the men of Roselynde are to obey him as well as those from Exceat.”
A broad grin dawned on Byford’s face. “Couldn’t have made me happier with a golden dowry and a new bride,” he said. “I don’t envy Godric getting those lazy buggers Brydger and Hring to keep themselves and their places clean, but I’ll tell ‘em that you’ll have ‘em on the whipping post if they sauces him ‘cause we all need to work together.”
Alex laughed. Brydger and Hring were a pair of older men, staunch and battle scarred, invaluable in a fight for steadying the younger fighters around them. But knowing their value, they pushed their advantage to the limit.
“Back to your men, then. Tell them about the combining of the two forces. And be sure to tell them that it will be Godric who wields the whip if there is any disobedience to his orders, Roselynde as well as Exceat.”
He turned back to Godric then, and gestured him forward. “Let us look at the cellars first and while we go, would you mind to tell me how you came to be full master-at-arms when you do not like the place? I do not mean it as a criticism. You must have seen by my orders to Byford that I think you capable.”
“Yes, m’lord. Thank you, m’lord. Well, about how I got to be master-at-arms, it was so—Peter the Piper was old and he wasn’t so good, only had to walk across the bailey to get pains in his arms and chest. But Lord Reule never did get to do anything.”
“But why?”
“Ah, Lord Reule, he was broke. First his younger boy got killed in a stupid hunting accident. Horse tripped, went down on his knees and the boy flew off over his head—right onto a rock.”
Alex shivered as they went through the gate in the inner wall and headed toward the forebuilding. “It’s happened to me. Luckily I landed soft and didn’t break anything except my collarbone.”
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