Henry of the High Rock

by Juliet Dymoke

  ‘There, my lord. Rest well. Tomorrow . . .’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ Henry broke in and laughed ruefully. ‘What am I to do tomorrow?’

  ‘Come to Vernon,’ Richard said at once. He had a wide mouth and a rather flat nose that made his face seem one large smile. ‘We’ll hunt and amuse ourselves while we see which way the wind blows.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Henry said. He liked Vernon on the upper reaches of the Seine, some twenty miles on the Norman side of Mantes, yet he sensed this was not the time to be away from the heart of the duchy. ‘I think I must go to Rouen.’ He would not hurry, he thought, he would let Robert get there first and take his inheritance and then he would see what sort of a reception he would get.

  When Richard had gone, closing the door behind him, he began to pace up and down the little room. Since he was sixteen he had been aware of his body and its needs and knew that the austerities of his father were not for him. But neither was the lust of men like Bellême and William of Breteuil. He scorned to take for mere lust or revenge which seemed to him to make one less than a man.

  Had he been a fool to speak as he had done to Alide? He had asked her to be wanton – no, not wanton but compassionate. Yet would she come? He did not know. Women could be capricious and she might stay away to make him see that even a Prince of Normandy could not have all he commanded, though he had commanded nothing of her. He felt hot at the thought. He did not want to go out and seek his pleasure in one of the houses which did exist despite his father’s ban – a cheap whore would not comfort him after today’s ordeal. He did not want any woman, only this particular one.

  And then, as he paced, there was a tap at the door and she stood there, her face a pale blur in the darkness, a long mantle covering her white chemise.

  He drew her in and stood, his hands on her shoulders, looking at her. Then he said, ‘I think I am abusing your father’s hospitality.’

  She smiled, her lips curving in a manner that enchanted him. ‘As to that I am a widow and no virgin awaiting marriage. My father knows I go my own way, and – I need not have come if I had not wished it.’

  ‘That is true,’ he said and in that moment felt the burden, the horror of the day receding. He took her hands in his. Her hair was unbound now and lying in a dark chestnut mass on her shoulders. He unfastened her mantle and let it fall, setting his fingers in her hair.

  ‘You are beautiful, Alide,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Your husband was fortunate to have enjoyed such beauty.’

  ‘I think he was more interested in his books,’ she said briefly. ‘I bore him a child but it was a girl and it died and then he died and I feel as if none of it had happened.’

  He held her head between his hands, looking into her face, into the calm eyes, and with a leap of the heart he thought – the man never touched her, never awakened her into love, despite the years of marriage he gave her nothing. It mattered, suddenly, that it was he who should do this for her. He kissed her slowly and then with gathering intensity until he felt her mouth respond to his. Then he drew off her chemise, and carried her to the bed.

  When he lay beside her he saw that her body was as beautiful as her face, and as he touched her breasts, her thighs, her legs in homage to that beauty, he wondered at the strangeness of circumstances that had brought them to this shared bed on this night. He began to make love to her, drawing from her an ardour that he sensed was wholly new to her, so that her ecstasy matched his own; and when it was over and they lay quiet, close in each other’s arms, it was she who soothed him, who whispered endearments and drove out the fear of evil dreams.

  Lying on his back, his arm under her shoulders, he said, ‘I do not think I shall want our ways to part tomorrow.’

  Quietly she asked, ‘Yet how should they go together?’

  ‘How does not matter. Do not tell me you do not feel what I felt the moment you came down the hall to me?’

  She laid her hand on his chest where the dark hair grew thick. She thought he seemed older, more mature than his years – at first she had deemed him a boy, but not now. ‘If I denied it you would not believe me. I was never a good liar.’

  ‘Your eyes are too honest,’ he said smiling and leaned over her to kiss first one and then the other, and when at last he fell asleep it was as he had wished, with his head between her breasts.

  It was not until the following morning that he remembered the unknown knight, Herluin, and he sent Hamo to make enquiries. While the lad was gone, he went to Thurstin and told him he wished to take Alide for his mistress.

  ‘I want her with me,’ he said without dissembling, ‘I want her to come to Rouen with me now and I promise you she shall need for nothing.’

  Thurstin, a phlegmatic man, considered this for a moment. ‘What does the wench say?’

  ‘She wishes it too, but she hesitates to leave you.’

  ‘As to that there are serving women enough to see to my needs.’ The merchant scratched his chin. ‘You don’t waste time, my lord Henry. Well, I suppose she will do what she wants. It’s many a year since she heeded me for all I’m her father.’ He did not seem unduly put out but more flattered by the honour paid his daughter. To be mistress of a Prince of Normandy and England and not just for a passing night was something many women would envy and few would sneer at. He sat talking amiably to his royal guest while Alide packed her belongings – to him the young man seemed cheerful and sensible with a lusty body and a strong arm and he had no doubt that his daughter would emerge well enough from the relationship however long or short a time it lasted. In the meantime he had his business to run and more on his mind than the whim of a woman, and he would find no shame in boasting to his neighbours of his connection with Prince Henry.

  Presently Hamo returned with a stranger and as Henry turned to greet him he gave a start of astonishment.

  ‘I know you,’ he exclaimed. ‘You are the knight who gave me a horse at Mantes.’

  The knight bowed. He had a long, grave face and thoughtful grey eyes. ‘I had that honour, lord.’

  ‘And it was you who acted so charitably to my father?’

  ‘It seemed no more than the Christian thing to do. I could not see him want for the decencies accorded to the meanest serf.’

  ‘A Christian act most others forgot that day,’ Henry said cryptically. ‘Well, I thank you for it. They told me you paid for embalmers and for the boat to bring my father’s body down the river? You shall be repaid in full for your goodness. Your name is Herluin, I think?’

  ‘Herluin La Barre, my lord, of Barre le Heron near Avranches. My father holds a small fief of the lord Hugh.’

  Henry nodded. ‘Hugh the Wolf – he has been both friend and tutor to me. You are welcome, Herluin. And I owe you a horse too, for after the fight I had no idea whose mount I had taken.'

  ‘A gift I made willingly,’ Herluin said. He had a melancholy smile. Henry indicated that he should sit beside him. ‘Do you serve one of our great lords?’

  Herluin shook his head. ‘I have been in the service of Count Roger of Sicily for five years. I am a younger son, my lord, and must make my own way. But this last summer I had a desire to come home and in Rouen I asked for a place in your father’s army when he went to fight the French. He was generous to me and that was why when he was hurt I came to St. Gervais to pray for him, and why I was there when no one else would . . .’ he broke off, a faint colour tinging his cheeks. ‘It was as if they had all, monks and barons alike, feared the Devil would take possession of Normandy. Perhaps it was because your father had ruled for so long, but I would not leave a bondsman thus, let alone a King. And I dare not lose a chance to . . .’ he broke off abruptly and when Henry looked at him enquiringly, not understanding his words, he lowered his eyes and did not speak.

  ‘Well, I am grateful to you,’ Henry said, ‘as my brother William will be when he hears of it. Where are you going now?’

  Herluin shrugged. ‘I do not know, my lord, but I’ve a fancy to stay in my own country. I would l
ike to take service with your family.’

  Henry was silent for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the stranger. Herluin was in his late twenties, thin and wiry with long legs and slender fingers that nevertheless knew how to hold the reins hard and wield a sword, and he had the weathered skin that came from years of living in the southern sunlight. Henry liked what he saw and presently said, ‘You could go to Robert, my brother the Duke, who is a spendthrift and may lavish gifts on you and a give you rich entertainment, or do you fancy Red William for a lord? He is generous too when the mood is on him but he might . . .’ he paused, glancing amusedly at Herluin, ‘no, you are too much a man for his fondling, but he treats his fighting men well. Or will you link your fortunes to mine? I too am a younger son so they are, to say the least, uncertain.’

  Herluin seemed surprised now and was silent, considering the matter in a manner that was particularly his own and which Henry would come to know. Then his odd smile came, twisting his face. ‘If you will give me the horse you owe me, my lord, I will ride with you.’

  Henry slapped his knee cheerfully. ‘I have only a small retinue, as you will see, but I pick my men with care and you, I think, will do very well among us. Now, let us be on the road. I want to see if my brother has claimed his inheritance.’

  When the Prince’s men were assembled and Herluin was strapping his modest saddle bags on the horse found for him by Raoul the Deer, he said to the latter, ‘The Prince is generous to give me so good an animal. Is he always thus – so friendly to strangers?’

  Raoul leaned against the saddle, smoothing the horse’s coat, proud of its silkiness, his rugged face expressionless. ‘Aye, he’s seldom put out. For all he’s young he knows what men need in a lord. If he likes a man he does not care how low his birth may be.’

  Herluin turned to look at the doorway of the house where Henry stood pulling on his gloves. Alide was beside him, wrapped in a long blue cloak and when a man-at-arms led up a horse he lifted her into the saddle.

  Herluin said in surprise, ‘I did not know the Prince had a lady?’

  ‘No more did any of us.’ Raoul cocked an eyebrow and grinned at Hamo who had joined them, his honest face unable to hide his surprise. ‘He has had many a wench for a night but this is something new. God knows what chase we shall be on now.’

  ‘Is it marriage?’ Hamo asked.

  Raoul shook his head, glancing at his lord, his eyes narrowed. ‘I doubt it.’ Gulfer had joined them, carrying in one hand a pole with cross-bars on which were tied his lord’s peregrine and two hawks. Overhearing the last words he said laconically, ‘Raoul is right. Our Henry won’t be swept away by a pretty face for all he’s still a lad.’

  ‘I don’t see how you can know,’ Hamo objected. ‘She is very beautiful.’

  ‘Oh aye,’ the Deer agreed, ‘but a man who may be King one day must look for more than beauty in his bride.’

  ‘A King?’ Herluin queried, smiling a little.

  ‘So his father prophesied,’ Raoul said and closed his mouth on further conversation.

  The great hall at Rouen was crowded at the dinner hour, the trestles packed close together, men on the lower benches jostling each other for room. Servants hurried back and forth bearing great silver dishes of meats and fish, trying to dodge the dogs that scurried under the tables chasing the scraps men threw away.

  On the dais Robert of Normandy sat sprawled in the ducal chair, his round face flushed, smiling and gay, as he called out greetings and jests and drank from the golden cup he held in his hand. He could scarcely suppress his joy that at thirty-four his days of exile were over and his inheritance fallen into his hands at last. He was magnificently dressed in rich blue sendal embroidered with silver, his mantle of crimson cloth edged with ermine and he wore thick gold bracelets on his solid arms. Already he was inclining to fat and the fair hair on the crown of his head was thinning but his face was handsome enough and his smile always ready to attract. The barons of Normandy who crowded to his table saw in him a lord who would be easy-going and lavish, who would entertain them richly and indulge their demands, releasing them from the iron rule of the past reign.

  Already Bishop Odo was making the most of his opportunities, sitting beside his nephew and dropping words into his ear.

  ‘It is sad, nephew,’ Odo said smoothly, ‘that one who promises to be so great a ruler should have only half my brother’s realm.'

  Robert paused with his cup half way to his lips, uncertain exactly what his silken-tongued uncle was insinuating. ‘You surely do not mean . . .’

  ‘Rufus?’ Odo snorted. ‘Most certainly not. It is you who are the eldest and to my mind you should have had the crown as well as the coronet.’

  The Duke put down the cup and tilted his head proudly. ‘Why, so I think, but brother William made haste to take it before I’d set foot on my own soil.’

  ‘Kings can be unmade.’

  Robert slewed round in his chair so that he startled the hooded falcon on the stand beside him. With one finger he soothed the ruffled feathers while keeping his eyes on his uncle’s face. ‘What is on your mind?’

  ‘Only that there are many of us here, and in England too, who do not like to see England and Normandy split under two rulers. Your father held both and I told him it would be a mistake to divide the realm. We would see it continue as before.’

  Robert’s fair face was flushed now. ‘You – you think I could oust Red William?’

  Odo inclined his head, his black eyes snapping with eagerness as they always did when he had his own interests at heart. He saw himself as the adviser of this easily cozened young man, the virtual ruler of two great countries and he moistened his thin lips in anticipation of this prospect.

  ‘Who would stand for me?’ the Duke asked.

  ‘My brother Mortain, he has already left for England to sound out some of the barons – Grandmesnil, De Toeni, I think, and Montgomery certainly and his son, our Count of Bellême here.’

  Robert glanced along the table. He did not like any member of the Talvas family, his namesake least of all, but Roger Montgomery, Earl of Shrewsbury, was the largest landowner in both countries and a powerful baron whose help he would need.

  ‘De Warenne,’ Odo was continuing, ‘Gilbert de L’Aigle perhaps, William of Breteuil, and many others.’

  ‘You tempt me, uncle.’

  Odo leaned forward. ‘The wealth of England is almost without end – you would be the richest man in Europe. Why, the gold and silver in the treasury at Winchester is beyond counting, though I’ve no doubt my miserly brother knew exactly how many pieces each chest contained.’

  Robert licked his lips, his fingers playing with the jesses on his hawk’s fierce talons. He drank deeply. ‘And what of my suzerain, Philip? Would he aid me?’

  'It is hardly the King of France’s affair,’ the Bishop answered loftily, ‘but we need his agreement that he will safeguard your borders while you are in England.’

  Robert hesitated. ‘You think I should lead an army there as my father did? Would it not be better if the barons rose and proclaimed me so that I had the right before setting foot on English soil?’

  ‘Your presence would be vital.’

  ‘I must think about it.’ The Duke glanced round, aware that they had talked too long in low voices. ‘We will discuss it again later.’ But his flushed cheeks, the light in his pale eyes, the twitching fingers told Odo all he needed to know and he leaned back in his chair, a smile of satisfaction on his dark face.

  It was shortly after this that the doors at the far end of the hall opened and one of the Duke’s ushers called in a ringing tone, ‘Prince Henry craves audience of his brother, the Duke of Normandy.’

  Robert sprang up. ‘Bid him enter,’ and he left his place and went down the hall, both hands held out.

  Henry found himself clasped in a great hug, kissed soundly on both cheeks and then held at arm’s length.

  ‘Well,’ Robert said, smiling, ‘my little brother Henry Beaucle
rc that I left behind has gone! Here indeed is a man.’

  Henry laughed. ‘It is five years and more, Robert. Holy Face, you are broader than I remember.’

  The Duke patted his stomach ruefully. ‘God knows why, for I hunt every day.’ He flung an arm about his young brother, ‘It is good to have you here. We’ll go hawking in Roumaire tomorrow and do the things we planned together so long ago. Now I am Duke you shall be at my side and we will live rich, you and I.’ He swept Henry down the hall to a seat by the ducal chair and plied him with food and drink.

  ‘Have you news from England?’ Henry asked, his mouth full of roasted swan’s meat. He saw his sister Adeliza smiling at him and waved his hand to her.