Great Maria (v5)

by Cecelia Holland

  “Robert’s got a headstrong way about him since we’ve been in Iste,” Eleanor said, and sighed. “He never does what I say anymore. You spoil him.”

  William said, “You’re talking about taking every fighting man who’ll follow us up into those mountains. As soon as we do, these people here will sink their teeth in our backs.”

  Maria held the cloth against her side. She liked the soft folds of the wool. “Cut it off here, Eleanor.” Richard said something about taking hostages. She raised her head, wondering whom he meant, and a remark of Roger’s told her they were talking of his friends here, the Lombard barons.

  That meant Pandolfo. Eleanor said, “I wish you would—” and Maria jabbed her with her elbow to quiet her.

  “What will we do with a dozen hostages?” William said. “Richard, you are asking for trouble.”

  “Take them back to Birnia with you and teach them to wait on us,” Roger said. “They’ve all got perfect manners, it won’t take much.”

  Richard said, “He’s not going back to Birnia. I like this cheese.”

  Roger got up. “We can’t very well leave Birnia open to Theobald. Who’s commanding there? Ponce?”

  “No,” Richard said. “I just told you, I want him at the East Tower to keep our supplies moving. Maria is going to hold Birnia.”

  Maria stiffened. The cloth slid to a soft heap at her feet. Stooping, she helped Eleanor fold it up again. Eleanor whispered, “What was that?”

  Maria said, “This is the first that I have heard of it.” She loaded the heavy cloth onto Eleanor’s arms and went back into the room, to stand beside William, across the table from Richard.

  “Who else is there?” Richard said. “I need both of you.”

  William folded his arms on the table, glanced up at Maria, and reached over to pat her heavily on the arm. Roger was standing across the room, near the window, filling his cup again. He said, over his shoulder, “That is not a woman’s duty.” He strode back toward the table.

  Richard stuck his knife in the cheese. “She will do it better than you could. Anyway, Fitz-Michael and the young Duke are raising an army. Theobald will have to deal with them, he’ll leave us alone. I’ll give her some men—the old ones will follow her as well as me, for her father’s sake.”

  “What about Welf?” Roger asked. “Let him command Birnia.”

  “No. I want him where I can watch him, he is ambitious. Let her do it.” He lifted his eyes to her. “She’s not as stupid as she looks.”

  Roger came up beside her. “She is a woman. She should not have to take up arms.”

  Richard grunted. “I told you, I don’t think she’ll have to do any fighting. She’s one of us, she won’t turn on us, she won’t sell us if Theobald offers her a bribe. Let it be. Ponce will get here tomorrow. Welf and the others will be in tomorrow or the next day. We will have the oath-taking on the Sabbath. Your priest knows what to say. I have a piece of holy bone, it should keep your friends from spitting out the oath.”

  Roger gave him a long stare. He turned to Maria. “My sister,” he said, “if you ever need me, send for me.” Without a word to either of his brothers, he walked out of the room.

  Maria started to clear off the table; Eleanor came to help her. William said good night to them and left. A scullion came in and took the tray away, and Eleanor followed him. The door closed.

  “I hate Birnia,” she said.

  “There is no one else who can do it.”

  “But it’s so far away. I thought we could stay in Iste—that way when you come back here we could see you.”

  “I’ll come down there when I can.” He was still sitting in his chair. He tilted it back on its hind legs to reach her and drew her over beside him. “You won’t have any trouble with Theobald. He’s all jaw.”

  “You could have asked me.” She stroked her fingers through his hair. If she could get Pandolfo somehow to Birnia, she could make his life miserable. Richard’s hair was soft as Stephen’s. She curled her fingers through it, plotting against Pandolfo.

  Richard said, “What are you thinking about, witch?”

  She stepped back, rattled, and made her face innocent. “Nothing.”

  That was a mistake. He dropped his chair down on all fours, took hold of her wrist, and made her kneel beside him, her arm doubled by his grip. “Tell me,” he said, in a pleasant voice.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I promised not to.”

  His fingers tightened painfully around her wrist. “Whom did you promise?”

  “Richard, let me go.”

  He twisted her arm, hard, and she whined. She said, “Roger.”

  His head bobbed up. Everything he thought showed in his face. She said, “No, it is not that.” He fastened his eyes on her, his jaw rigid.

  “You and Roger.”

  “It is not that.”

  “What is it?”

  “I promised Roger not to tell you.”

  Fast in his grip, her forearm had gone numb to the elbow. Her shoulder ached with a steady throb. He said, “Swear to me that it is not—that you have not—” He cocked up his free hand to strike her. She could not move against his hold. She looked him in the eyes, her heart galloping.

  He lowered his hand, and opened his fingers, letting go of her wrist. He said, “Swear to me that you have kept faith with me.”

  “I swear,” she said, and crossed herself. Her other arm was numbed its whole length. She could not move her fingers. Slowly the flesh prickled alive again. His face eased. She saw that he believed her. She said, “If you don’t trust me, why give me Birnia? Theobald might turn me fickle.”

  “I haven’t trusted you since the day you murdered Walter Bris.”

  Maria started violently. His face was brimming with malice. She stood up, turning away from him. She had long forgotten Walter Bris.

  He grabbed hold of her skirt. “Wait. Come here, I’m sorry I said that.” He made her stand before him. “I haven’t forgotten what we were talking about either. What did you promise Roger?”

  “I said I wouldn’t tell you about something that happened to me.”

  “Between you and Roger?”

  “No. Roger had nothing to do with it.”

  “Good.” He stood up, her face between his hands, and kissed her. “Then don’t think about it anymore. I’ll beat you the next time I see you with Roger.”

  Maria put both hands on his chest and pushed him away, angry. “You told me that I should make friends of Roger’s friends—now you won’t let me go down to watch the dancing.” She went into the middle of the room, her back to him. She hated Birnia.

  “Oh,” he said. “You’ll do with Theobald.”

  ***

  On the next Sunday, with all the people of Roger’s court, and all the chief men of Richard’s demesne, they went to Mass. After they had received God, everyone gathered on the porch of the cathedral. There, one at a time, Roger and William, Ponce Rachet and Welf Blackjacket and the others of Richard’s men knelt in front of him and swore themselves into his service. In return for their homage, Richard swore to protect them and to listen to their advice.

  Afterward, Roger’s friends did homage as well, some of them smiling, others less pleased. In the sack of Iste, Richard had found a crystal with a bit of bone in it, which he claimed was a finger bone of Saint John, and he made them take the oath on that. He had not required the oath on the relic of his own barons, and many of Roger’s friends swore it in angry voices.

  Finally Richard had them accept Robert as his heir. Standing beside Maria in his new blue coat, the little boy shone like a star.

  They followed the oath-taking with a feast that began at dinner. When the sun went down they were still eating. The cook was producing a new dish every few moments. Ponce had brought a wagonload of wine from the low valleys, and everyone was getting visibly drunk, even Richard. Maria sat beside him, passing tidbits from her plate to Eleanor, behind her holding Stephen on her lap. The uproar of the people at t
he feast drowned the two lutes and the little trumpet playing in the alcove to her left.

  She thought of Pandolfo, and looked curiously around for him. In the excitement of the oath-taking, she had not thought for some time of her revenge. He was not in the hall, and when she thought back she was sure he had not sworn an oath to Richard. Her curiosity pricked her. Robert and Roger were on her left, bent together over a handful of filberts scattered on the tabletop before them.

  Roger said to Robert, “Now, watch.” He threw one nut straight up in the air. With the same hand he scooped up two or three of the filberts on the table, one at a time, and caught the falling nut before it hit.

  “Let me try,” Robert said,

  Roger smiled at her across Robert’s bent head. She said, “Where is your friend Pandolfo, Roger?”

  Robert tossed the nut into the air, grabbed one from the table, and knocked over his cup lunging after the first as it fell. A servant came over to clean up after him. Roger’s face was suddenly bland. He said, “Oh—Pandolfo? I don’t know—ask Richard.”

  Maria sat back, her eyes on Richard. He was drinking, the carved wooden cup raised into the sunlight. She knew he had overheard them. She brushed a crumb from his sleeve and looked back at Roger.

  “You told him.”

  Roger shrugged one shoulder, gathering the hazelnuts from Robert. He dropped the nuts with a rattle onto the tabletop, threw one high over his head, and picked up three more. Turning his palm up, he let the falling nut plop into his hand. When he did it, it seemed nothing. “I never promised not to tell him.”

  Maria sat back. The tumblers and dancers had gathered in the doorway. She nodded to the servant in charge of the hall, who waved out his men to roll up the carpets and sweep the floors.

  The people along the tables let out a cheer. In a burst of music, the tumblers ran out to the middle of the floor and began their nimble leaps and somersaults. Richard’s left hand rested on the table, heavy with rings. Maria wondered what he had done to Pandolfo. She twisted the Saracen ring on his little finger.

  “I like this. Will you give it to me?”

  Impassive, he studied her face a moment, pulled the ring off, and taking hold of her left hand put it on her forefinger. The tumblers were making a pyramid. He turned back to watch, but he kept hold of her hand. Maria laid her fingers over his, pleased.

  Part Two

  Arrows of God

  Seventeen

  William’s long residence had improved the Tower of Birnia very little. His bachelor passions were hawking and dogs, and the whole Tower reeked of beasts. Maria and Eleanor lived two days in the inn in the town while the Tower was cleaned. When that was done, and all the linen washed and dried in the sun, they moved into the top floor.

  Richard had sent twenty knights with her to garrison Birnia. All but one were old, and most were sick or halt. The young man was a green knight named Ralf who had lost his place in the army at dice. The others had served her father before she was even born. The oldest, Jean, whose fading hair hung down to his shoulders in the old style, she made the commander of the rest.

  Her knights went out on regular patrols, kept watchmen at the crossroads and the bridges, and hunted down an occasional robber. The hot, stormy summer made a good crop. The serfs worked steadily over their fields. Pilgrims came along the road to the Shrine of the Virgin, and in the middle of the summer, Maria herself went there to receive the formal homage of the monks and to attend to her chapel. Now five monks served the shrine, and they had added a wing to the guesthouse. Maria lingered there until the end of the summer.

  In the last of August, the young knight Ralf appeared with a message from Jean. Robert ran up to Maria where she sat under the beech trees near the chapel and hauled her out by the hand toward the road. The young knight dismounted and bowed, like a priest.

  “My lady, Jean has ordered me to report that Count Theobald, with a mighty band of men, is coming along the road. He has sent to ask a hearing of you, that he might come across our border.”

  Maria stood in the sunlight, her eyes squinted. Ralf’s manner set her teeth on edge. “What is a mighty band of men?”

  “Forty men, my lady.”

  “I have never heard forty men reckoned such an enormous number.”

  Ralf gave her a patient smile. “May I remind my lady that we number eighteen—”

  “Twenty.”

  “Eighteen. Two of the hacks in Birnia are ailing, they cannot ride. In view of our circumstances, forty men is a mighty band.”

  “Leave if you are frightened.”

  “My lady, I did not intend to imply—”

  “Then stop.”

  He clamped his mouth shut. Maria went down the road a little way. Stephen was scrambling up the hill, Eleanor in pursuit. Maria thought of Theobald and his forty men.

  “Well,” she said, “I suppose I will have to do something.”

  “My lady.” Ralf came around in front of her again. “Jean suggests, and I agree, that we should make him leave his escort and come to the Tower itself if he wishes a hearing with you. He cannot know how weak we are; he will think himself in danger, that will put him at a disadvantage.”

  “You want him to see for himself that he’s in no danger at all?”

  “He could hardly lay siege to the Tower of Birnia with forty men, my lady.”

  He sounded confident, or perhaps bored. Suddenly she guessed that he was trying to raise his own green courage, not irritate her. Cooler, she thought Jean’s plan over again.

  “No,” she said. “He’ll expect something like that. Is he coming by the main road?” If God helped her, it would not matter if Theobald led a thousand men. The thing to do was to stop Theobald at the border and find out what he wanted, before he got any hint of her real strength.

  “Yes, my lady. He left Occel yesterday by the King’s Road.”

  Maria called to Robert. The King’s Road crossed into Birnia more than ten leagues from the Tower, but only half a day from the shrine: a sign of grace. Eleanor hurried toward her with Stephen.

  “I will meet Theobald at the Rood Oak,” she said to Ralf. “There are six knights here with me, I will take them to escort me.”

  Ralf’s face fell. “But—my lady—this is—”

  “Perhaps you want to come with me?”

  She meant it for a threat, but he drew himself up as tall as he could and said, “I shall. You will need a real knight with you.”

  Maria held her mouth straight against a smile. Before she could answer, Robert rushed up to her. Eleanor was close behind him, trying to keep hold of Stephen. Maria brushed Robert’s hair back off his forehead.

  “Count Theobald is coming and I have to go talk to him. You are going to have to go back to the Tower by yourself. Will you do it?”

  “Mama! I want to go with you, to meet Theobald.”

  “Do as I ask. You will have to save me if I do anything foolish. Find Waleran and take him with you.”

  Robert ran off down the hill toward the village, where Maria’s six aged knights spent the days drinking and trying to seduce the girls. Ralf planted himself in front of Maria, his feet widespread.

  “I must insist again that this is the course of folly. You should harken to Jean—he was left to command here. He knows best.”

  “Yes,” Maria said. “I know.” She started down after Robert, to make things ready for the journey.

  ***

  At noon, they stopped beside the road in a field, to walk, eat dinner, and water the horses. Eleanor came up to Maria and asked, “Why did you send Robert home but not us?”

  “Oh,” Maria said. “Do you think Theobald will take us hostage, when he sees we are defenseless?”

  Eleanor’s face sharpened to a point. “Such a thought came to me. Obviously to you as well. Theobald must know that Richard is far away.”

  Maria took her coif down from her hair. She had borrowed the fashion from the women in Birnia, but she wound the extra cloth around her head,
instead of starching it into stiff little wings. Carefully she stuck the hairpins into her belt. She said, “Theobald knows what Richard would do to him if he hurt me.” If she seemed afraid of him, Theobald would certainly take advantage of her. Perhaps if she acted unafraid, he would think her strong. Shaking out the coif, she hung it on a bush and smoothed back her hair.

  Eleanor went off calling for Stephen. Maria took down her braids from the crown of her head. Eleanor in her red shawl stooped in the high yellowing grass to pick up the little boy. Beyond her, Ralf was leading the carthorses up from the river, his hands on their bridles. The other knights lounged along the side of the road.

  Probably Ralf was right, and she should have listened to Jean. Maria did not believe it. Anything she did was better than waiting for Theobald to act at his will. She folded the white linen in half and wrapped it around her hair. She tucked the loose ends of the coif in at the back and went up to the road, to help Eleanor get into the cart.

  ***

  They reached the meadows of the Rood Oak in the late afternoon. Early pilgrims had built a well there, beside the road. Travelers often spent the night in the open grass around the big stone cross. Maria had heard that the name remembered an old tree of whose branches the first pilgrims had made crosses to take to the shrine, but now there was no oak tree within leagues of the place.

  While her escort and the two servants made a camp in the meadow, she took Stephen for a walk. He darted ahead of her into the fading light of the day, his fat legs milling, and his napkin down around his knees. Between spurts of chatter, he dug up stones and chased a green snake into a hummock of grass. When he tired, she carried him, walking slowly back toward the campfire, and thought over everything she had ever heard about Theobald.

  In the twilight, with the fireflies rising and flickering in the meadow around their camp, the knights sat slouched before the flames. Eleanor and the other girl hurried around making supper. The wide meadows around them made them seem tiny and exposed, and Maria cast about for some way to protect them.