"My lord," the monk said, and made the sign of the Cross at Fulk. From his cassock, he took paper and a case of pens and ink. His fingers were ink-stained; he was very young, with a Norman accent and fine, fair hair.
"Now, write this, Gervase. 'To my lord Henry Fitz-Empress, Duke of Normandy and Count of Anjou--" She looked inquiringly at Fulk.
"Duke of Aquitaine," Fulk said. "King of England, if you want him to love you."
"Yes." She watched the monk write. "'Greeting from Rohese, Lady of Highfield. My lord, God's blessing on you and your works. I offer you'--Is that too abrupt?"
Fulk shook his head, smiling.
"'I offer you my hunting lodge of Oakwood, my lord, if you wish to hunt, and the forest around nit, which is full of game, and my packs of deerhounds and mastiffs. I am praying daily for the peace of England and the coming of her rightful king.'" She frowned.
"You lie," Alys said pleasantly.
"How can you know what my prayers are?"
"She lies," Alys said to Fulk.
"Is that sufficient? The letter." Rohese's eyes followed the monk's quick hands.
"Very good, my lady."
"It isn't grand enough--tell me more compliments to make him."
"More lies?" Alys said.
"But he has much to do, there's no need to make him struggle through too many words. Does he read?"
"Yes. He's a learned man, young as he is."
"Gervase, copy that out now, so that Stafford will have it when he leaves."
The monk mumbled something; he had written the rough draft on fouled paper, and he shuffled through the pile for a clean sheet. Fulk drank the rest of his ale.
"Do you like the ale, my lord?"
"It's excellent. I'm sure the wine is, too, lady, if I had the tongue for it."
"It is." Rohese glared at Alys. "All my friends enjoy it."
"All but one," Alys said. "How is your son, my lord?"
"Rannulf is dead, my lady."
Alys' gaze wavered and fell. "Oh," she said, so softly Fulk barely heard it. Rohese made the sign of the Cross.
"God rest his soul. And so soon after your countess died, too. I'll pray for him."
Fulk said nothing; he looked from her to Alys, who was staring at the floor and stroking the dog at her side. She looked up and caught his eyes and turned to Rohese.
"Could not Stafford have supper with us, cousin?"
"Of course. I was assuming that you meant to stay, Stafford--it's well into the afternoon already."
"I would like to, but I have to go back to Stamford. Later, I will, I promise you."
"I shall expect it. You must come to hunt with the prince. But stay for another drink of ale."
Alys leaped up. "I'll serve you, Fulk--my lord." She smiled at him tenderly.
Rohese jerked her stool close to the loom and picked up the bobbin. "Alys, you disgrace your family."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I making you jealous?"
"No!" Rohese's hands worked furiously. Fulk took the cup from Alys.
"Don't be vicious."
"She how she blushes." Alys went back to her chair and sat down. The monk was sanding the letter; Fulk drank the weak, pale ale, impatient for him to finish, so that he could go.
"What is she like, this lady of Highfield?" Prince Henry turned the letter over in his hand; he stood slouched a little so that the light of the candles fell on it.
"She is a second cousin of William Peverel's," Fulk said. He had ridden hard to Stamford, and his clothes were stained with dust and his own sweat and his horse's. "She's one of the few women I've met, though, who supported your mother the empress."
Prince Henry smiled. "Women rarely like my mother." He folded the letter and poked it into his wallet. "She must be gracious, then, to offer me this chance to hunt. I'll accept as soon as I can. Do you like to hunt? You must come, naturally. Sit, my lord."
Fulk sat down; Henry with a gesture sent his pages away and drew his own chair forward. "I am sorry Rannulf is dead. I liked him, I could depend on him. Is Hugh now your heir?"
"Rannulf has a son, only six months old. Geoffrey." The candles lit only a corner of the room, and in the darkness he could hear people moving around; he put his elbows on the arms of his chair. "De Bruyères die young, we get our sons early."
"We all die too young. What is this--" He looked at the letter. "Rohese? What is she like? Is she pretty?"
"Not especially. She's very French in her way of dress. She isn't young, either, she's buried two husbands and is looking for a third."
"You?" Henry sprawled back in his chair. "Are you thinking of marrying, my lord?"
Fulk shook his head. "If I do, I'll have a young wife, and a small one, with an empty head."
Henry laughed. "The ones who can convince you that their heads are empty are the dangerous ones." He put the letter down. The candlelight fell softly on his hair and left his face in shadow. "You have met my duchess, haven't you?"
"Twice, my lord."
"What do you think of her?"
"She's beautiful, of course, and lively." Fulk heard a noise behind him and turned, and a page came up. Henry waved him off before he could speak.
"Go on, my lord."
Fulk heard the page go to the door and out again, and the door shut with a thud. "She's hardly empty-headed. I think she has a temper like a cat's, and she won't be content with anything. She's reckless. I don't like that even in a man."
Henry shifted himself in his chair, and the light fell across his face. He was frowning. Fulk wondered briefly why Henry was keeping him here in pleasant conversation when obviously someone was waiting outside to see him.
"I don't know whether you are so frank from carelessness or honesty, my lord," Henry said, and called to a page to bring them wine.
"It's too much trouble to lie."
"Oh, well." Henry's face slid back into the shadows. "Chester and Leicester and Pembroke and Hereford and the bishop and whoever I have forgotten, all of them take such pains with me, then, that they must devote their lives to it, and you go to no trouble at all. How churlish of you not to put yourself to trouble for me, Stafford, I find it rebellious in you."
Fulk caught himself smiling. He said, "Chester would be shocked to hear you think he lies, my lord, he thinks that he alone ever knows the truth."
"All of them--they say the pious, proper things, they talk of Christian virtues with a loving air, and do the opposite, and don't seem to understand that the words mean nothing and the naked act alone is worth judging them by."
"The judge them by the naked act, my lord, and don't listen to what they say."
"I cannot allow men to lie and lie, and because they wish to, believe what they say."
The page came with two cups of wine. Fulk took one, the gold cool to his hands, chased and figured and set with little red stones.
"Did you talk to Chester, that day?" Henry said.
Fulk nodded. "The wine will conquer England, my lord.": He held a mouthful of it a moment on his tongue, swallowed it, and said, "We have never been able to grow decent wine grapes here."
"Then it came to nothing, the talk."
"I never listen to what Chester says, I watch what he does. It took me most of my first years' ruling to learn that."
The door opened, and the page came in again, a swift patter of feet on the wooden floor. Henry said, "Tell him he must wait a little."
"My lord, it's so late, he says--"
"Tell him to wait. No, Stafford, stay." Henry gestured to the page to leave. Leaning forward, his face in the light again, he said, "I find a philosopher behind that refusal to talk."
"I don't know why, my lord."
"This touches on something I've often thought of. Perhaps if we were not taught how things should be--" He lifted his hand and the rings on his fingers flashed in the candlelight. "If we did not expect order in everything, the world would fly into chaos. You know the legends of seers who go blind from the light of truth; might the truth, t
he real nature of things, be so terrible that we create lies to guard our minds against it?"
Fulk savored another mouthful of wine. "You have a marvelous fondness for such philosophy."
"Argue it away, then. Convince me otherwise."
"I'll think about it. I distrust abstractions, there seems to me more convenience than truth in them." Something the prince had said before came back to him. "Have you read Abelard."
"Yes. It stuns me that you have. Have you? Do you read much?"
"Charters, rulings of law, letters, such as I come on now and then. Sometimes a book comes into my hands."
"We should talk more often." Henry picked up Rohese's letter. "We shall hunt soon--I'll give you words, so that you can tell the lady of Highfield to expect us. I want to meet her." He smiled. "I'll tell you if you should marry her."
"Thank you, my lord." Fulk put down his cup, rose, and bowed. "Good night, my lord."
"Good night," The prince said. "How astonishing, that you have read Abelard. Have my page send in Pembroke."
Fulk choked back a laugh. He had been wondering who Henry wanted kept waiting. He went to the door and let himself out.
In the narrow room made by the landing of the stair, two pages and the Earl of Pembroke stood waiting; Pembroke was chewing his fingernails. He started forward.
"Fulk."
"The prince says he will see my lord Pembroke now," Fulk said to the page. "I'm sorry, Gilbert, we were talking philosophy, you must pardon us." He smiled up at Pembroke's bony face and went down the stairs. Prince Henry should not be allowed to keep a man like the Earl of Pembroke waiting on the stair, even before he was king, but the look on Pembroke's face made him laugh, all the same.
Thierry rode ahead of Fulk into Highfield Castle, just behind the prince; it had taken them all day to ride up from Stamford, and Thierry's curly russet hair was gray with dust. Fulk looked up at the castle wall, searching among the people gathered on the rampart on either side of the gatehouse, but he did not see Alys.
The people began to cheer. Fulk rode after Thierry into the main courtyard. The walls were hung with garlands of flowers, and the courtyard itself had been swept and all the livestock penned away. A great mass of servants awaited them. Fulk rode up toward the prince, to introduce him to Rohese, who was standing in the gatehouse door. She came forward, draped in white and red silk, and bowed to the ground.
Henry dismounted, and Fulk slid down from his saddle and ran up to him,. "My lady Rohese, my lord. My lord the Duke of Normandy."
Rohese straightened, her hand out, and Henry bowed oer it. "My lady. I am devoted to you for your generosity."
"My lord," Rohese said; her voice quivered. Henry stood pressing thanks and compliments on her, her castle, and her lands. Fulk saw him glance up behind her, and following his gaze saw Alys on the stair above them. He looked around for Thierry.
Thierry stood talking to Pembroke, near the middle of the courtyard. He gave no sign that he had seen Alys, but of course he didn't know she was here. The servants were taking away all the horses, and a blast of hunting horns rang out.
Henry turned, looking sharply around. Rohese said, "Will you attend me, my lord?"
"With greatest pleasure, my lady."
Fulk followed them up the stair. He could imagine what had gone through Henry's mind when, in a strange castle, he heard hunting horns give a signal. Chester came after him, and he heard Thierry's voice behind him. They climbed the stairs into Rohese's great hall. It was covered with flowers, and the new tapestry hung on the wall. Three tables had been set out for the meal; three pages in matching green and white stood before a cupboard filled with cups and jars of wine and kegs of ale; on every level surface not occupied by a mass of flowers was a dish of pastry.
Rohese sat down by the hearth, with Prince Henry opposite her, leaning forward to give her his attention. Alys lingered by the door. Fulk paused beside her. "Don't look so eager, will you?" he said softly.
She turned her shoulder on him; her eyes were fixed on the door. Fulk went over toward the hearth. The hall was filling up with people--Rohese had invited two neighboring lords and some no her tenants, and all of Henry's hunting party had come, of course. People began to chatter, and cups came rattling out of the cupboard, wine splashed into them, the pastry dishes emptied immediately, and laughter rang out.
Rohese was glowing. Fulk stood behind her--a page had brought him ale--and listened to her tell the prince exactly what was wrong with England; she was so rapt she did not see Thierry come in, and stop and speak to Alys.
Fulk watched them intently. Thierry said something, and Alys put her hand out, the palm raised, and he shook his head and bowed and went off. Alys stared after him. Fulk thought at first that she would leave. but she pulled herself up; her face looked all bones. Fulk looked down at Rohese and saw her still talking to the prince.
"Here is Stafford, jealous," Prince Henry said.
Rohese looked around. "Good day, my lord, I am pleased to see you again so soon." To the prince, she said, "My lord, I shall not keep you. You have other people to talk to. Thank you for listening to my ravings."
"Not ravings, but shrewd remarks." The prince bowed again. "Lady, we shall be friends, I think." He gave her his winning smile and went off to talk to Chester.
"He is so charming," Rohese said to Fulk. Her gaze stiffened. "That is your uncle, isn't it. I did not know he would come."
"Yes. I should have warned you."
"What can I do? They are all to spend the night--he can't, I will not allow it."
"Alys is here, but she isn't with him, is she?"
"She will find some way--"
"Rohese." He took a cup from a page and gave it to her. "How do you like our prince?"
"Oh, he loves himself well enough, and he is handsome. What a pity he is married."
Fulk laughed. "Don't pity him." He glanced impatiently at Henry, who was deep in talk with Chester. "I see you finished your tapestry."
"I worked on it all day long from the moment you took my message, so that it would be done. Alfred, come here, I want you to meet the Earl of Stafford."
She drew a thin young man with a wan face out of the crowd and presented him to Fulk. "Alfred is a tenant of mine."
Alfred lisped. while he and Rohese spoke of the effects of the recent rain on the roads, Fulk looked for Alys. She was talking to Simon d'Ivry, who had come with Fulk. Chester appeared beside them and edged Simon out, his beefy face flushed; Alys stepped back away from him. Beyond Chester Henry was watching her steadily. Alys glanced again and again at Thierry, by the hearth, but he took no notice.
"You see," Fulk said to Rohese.
"I see. Perhaps you are wiser than I."
Fulk hoped so. A page held up a bowl of nuts, and he took a handful and cracked a walnut in his fingers. "I know my uncle." He hoped he also knew Prince Henry. He put the nutmeat in his mouth, picked out a whole walnut, and threw it at Thierry.
Thierry jumped and put his fingers to his temple; he jerked his gaze toward Fulk. Fulk smiled at him.
"You are--irrepressible, my lord," Rohese said sharply.
"New life springs in me when I am in your company, my lady."
Now Henry was talking to Alys. Even from a distance Fulk could see a sudden difference in her, an artful submission. "Let me look at your work, my lady," he said to Rohese. "You wove all these tapestries, didn't you?"
"I did. Do you like them?"
Fulk led her around the room, commenting on the tapestries, and she leaned on him and laughed. "I see you have an interest in King Arthur," he said, looking at the Grail tapestry. The strawberry wine had stained a corner of it.
"I find those stories prettier than Charlemagne or the lives of the saints,. Oh. I do think we should dine." She waved to the servant in the doorway, who went out again. "Everyone is envious of me. Did you see how the ladies looked, when I was talking to the prince?"
"Envious."
"And of you, too, giving me so
much attention. Stafford, think of the rumors."
Before Fulk had to answer that, horns blared again, and every man in the room twitched. The cook came in, carrying his ladle, at the head of a parade of servants with platters of roast meat. The watching guests let out a gasp. The aromas of beef and mutton reached Fulk's nostrils. After the first three platters came boys with great golden fish, pigeons and capons, stacks of bread. The horns blasted; four swarthy kitchen knaves in greasy aprons carried in an enormous platter, on which a roasted deer, its head artfully braced up and set with parchment horns and apple eyes, reclined in a lake of sauce.
The cook accepted the cheers and stood back and everybody went to sit down. Pages escorted the prince, Alys, Fulk and Rohese to the high table.
"I hope you will enjoy our simple country fare," Rohese said to the prince, who sat in the high chair on her right. "We had so little time to prepare a true feast."
"My lady, I have seen nothing so tempting since I left Anjou." His glance flicked past Rohese, toward Alys.
The girl sat with her hands in her lap, not looking at him, and her nose wrinkled. "She has had them working for three days now." Her eyes rose, aimed not at the prince, or even at Fulk beside her, but at Thierry.
"He's been sorely wounded," Fulk said. "I hit him with a walnut. Simon, serve my Lady Alys first."
Simon leaned down between Alys and Rohese to put fish on Alys' plate. She said, "How do I look, my lord?"
"Very pretty."
"I haven't made a coif yet, and I will not wear one of my cousin's. Do I look too unfashionable?"
"No. I told you. You have beautiful hair. Alys, Thierry will never be jealous of me."
"Rohese wil be. Are you going to marry her?"
"I am in mourning, lady. Eat your fish."
Henry was drinking soup; whenever he looked at Rohese, his eyes moved past her to Alys.
"I think you should," Alys said, judicially. "Everyone can see you like her, the way you hang on her."
"Let's talk to something else. Have you--"
"But I want to talk of this. She frets when she has no husband. She doesn't like women. I don't blame her, I don't either."
THE EARL (A HAMMER FOR PRINCES) Page 26