“I need to go to the castle,” he said at last. “I—might be detained there some time. If that is the case, I shall try to send Edwin back with a message and he will have instructions to take you from Devizes immediately and make all speed for home.”
She gave a great gasp. “My lord, you cannot risk yourself there. I heard talk of some of the barons and earls in attendance as we passed through the town. I heard mention of the Earl of Chester. He may have seen you formerly in the King’s train. You could be recognised and taken…”
“I know that, that is the very reason why you must leave immediately if I send you word.”
She came very close to him and reached out timidly to take his hand. “Haven’t you proved your loyalty and—and your courage by venturing so far? You cannot fail to pass at the castle unnoticed.”
He sat down on the truckle bed heavily. “I do not intend to pass unnoticed. I shall join the many petitioners who call hour by hour to press their grievances about the present state of the kingdom upon Henry FitzEmpress and plead for his help to remedy the situation.”
She went white to the lips. “But why? I do not understand.” Her blue eyes widened in doubt. “Alain, you do not intend—you, of all people—who have benefited so much from the King’s bounty—you will not act the traitor and offer your allegiance to Henry, the son of your King’s mortal enemy?”
This was worse than her suspicions of cowardice. She could not believe it. Alain could not turn his back so blatantly on honour. The thought was not to be borne.
He said coldly, “So, again, you choose to think the worst of me.”
“No,” she cried brokenly, “I do not—please, my lord, tell me it is untrue, that you did not use my presence to help you through the lines in order to betray your liege lord.”
He rose, shrugging in that characteristic way she knew well. “If that is your belief…”
Tears spiked her lovely lashes as she lifted her gaze to his, reaching out with one hand to detain him while she searched his features intently for the truth of this matter.
She let her hand drop at last and said very softly. “No, I do not believe you capable of such an act of foul treachery. There is more to this than you will tell me—and more danger than you will reveal to me. I am your wife, Alain, I have the right to know. Can you not trust me?”
He sighed and pushed her gently down upon the bed. “Then listen well, my heart. The King has entrusted me with a mission to Henry. I cannot give you the details, but suffice it to say it is with the King’s blessing that I come here on this most secret business.”
“You will go into the presence of Henry?”
“If I can be admitted, yes.”
“Then if Chester is present or Salisbury you could be identified…”
“Yes, but in all events my greatest danger lies in being recognised by Henry himself. You see, we were well known to each other as boys, pages. I need to talk with him in private and my hope is that, seeing me, he will grant me an audience well away from his advisers.” He grimaced, “On the other hand, I know Henry too well. He could explode into the most foul temper and order my immediate arrest on a charge of spying.”
“Then why reveal yourself to him?”
“I must, my heart. I am instructed to have secret discussion with him, as I have already said.”
She was growing more desperate by the moment. “Then—if—if you are taken—the King would surely ransom you…”
He frowned. “The King will deny any knowledge of my mission—he must—at this stage.”
Her heart was beating violently. “How—how will you get in to see him?”
“I told you. I hear that many wealthy and, yes, poorer merchants are presenting themselves to beg him to help them end this war. They are being ruined, preyed on by mercenary bands. I do not have to explain the horror of those events to you. I shall join the other petitioners, hoping to catch his attention and be granted an opportunity to talk with him.
“Henry has an innate sense of justice. He genuinely will sympathise with these people. I believe that—but—” he gave a little grim smile “—I also know that he cannot bear to be thwarted.”
She was silent, considering, then she said, “I have heard that he—he likes women. Is that true?”
“Like his father, Geoffrey, he is said to admire lovely women, yes.”
“Then if this merchant was to be accompanied by his wife—who added her pleas to his—surely it would attract a more sympathetic response, wouldn’t you say?”
It was his turn now to remain silent, staring back at her, his dark brows drawing together doubtfully. “I cannot—will not allow you to do that.”
“Yet you say this mission for the King is of the utmost importance.”
He hesitated. “It is,” he said at last, very deliberately.
“And, as you said at Allestone, you can protect me best when I am at your side.”
His lips curved into a sudden smile and he shook his head almost in disbelief at her determined effrontery.
She waited, a little breathless, for his decision, then he said very slowly, “If my remembrance of Henry is accurate, I cannot believe he would blame you for aught. Whatever my circumstance, he would release you, I’m sure, yet…”
“So it is determined,” she said, firmly cutting across any further doubts he might harbour.
Aldith had managed to brush off most of the dust and expunge the travel stains from Gisela’s cloak. Underneath the hood, Gisela wore a fine linen veil and fillet, so, feeling more presentable, she walked with Lord Alain through the prosperous little market town towards the imposing castle on its high constructed earthworks.
Beside it was the almost-completed church of St John, its tower rising to so considerable a height it almost rivalled the castle battlements. They were accompanied by Edwin, Algar remaining at the inn with Aldith and Sigurd.
As they passed beneath the well-guarded gatehouse and passed over the planked bridge that crossed the deep defensive ditch, Gisela stole a nervous glance at her husband. They were surrounded by a press of people anxious to get into the main hall. Most were influential townsfolk, by their dress, but Gisela believed that some, by the stained state of their appearance and weary demeanour, had travelled far as she and Alain had done.
Apparently the young Count of Anjou had ordered the rabble of visitors to be admitted; though they were all watched carefully by grim faced men-at-arms from beneath the jutting noseguards of their conical helmets, no one was challenged. Lord Alain’s horses had been left at the inn under Algar’s care and he and Gisela found themselves pushed and jostled as they attempted to cross the bailey and force their way with the others into the castle’s great hall.
Despite the intense cold outside, the hall was warm. The closeness of bodies exuding the combined stinks of wet wool and sweat made Gisela feel suddenly faint. Lord Alain placed a steadying hand beneath her arm as she was almost thrown off her feet by a portly man behind her.
The noise was intense, literally a hundred voices all jabbering at the same time. People pushed towards the dais at the far end of the hall beneath which a perspiring clerk sat at a small trestle table, trying to list the names of those seeking an audience with Count Henry.
Gisela saw that many of the petitioners were monks and there were several nuns. Grimly she faced the fact that many abbeys and nunneries had been raided in these unruly sacrilegious times and their treasures looted.
There was a sudden harsh command over the din and gradually the people vociferously demanding the attention of the clerk fell silent. All eyes turned towards an arras behind the dais that was lifted aside to allow the entrance of a small group of men. Lord Alain’s grasp on Gisela’s arm tightened warningly.
Three men stepped through and took their places at the high table. All wore civilian dress; one, a big black-avised man, resplendent in scarlet tunic embellished with gold thread embroidery and another, slighter, more elegant figure in green over a golden brown
, longer undertunic, but Gisela, glancing at Alain, saw that his attention was fixed upon the third who took his seat between them.
This, then, must be Henry Plantagenet, son of the Empress Matilda—only surviving child of the late King Henry—and Geoffrey, Count of Anjou, who styled himself the rightful heir to England and the dukedom of Normandy.
She was a little disappointed by her first impression of him. He was much smaller, though sturdily built and well muscled, than either of his two attendant barons, and plainly, almost soberly dressed in a fine wool tunic of dark brown under a fur-lined mantle.
He wore no distinguishing chain of office or golden fillet and his red-brown hair gleamed beneath the heavy iron candlelabra bearing six wax candles that reared over the dais, for the afternoon was already waning and the poor light filtering through the unglazed lancet windows and the dense smoke billowing from the central hearth and collecting under the lantern trap were combining to add to the intense gloom within the shadowed place.
She had heard that his father, Geoffrey, had been a handsome man, but Henry undoubtedly was not. Gisela thought that, even though he was still in his early twenties, his bright hair was already slightly receding at the high, intelligent brow. He would run to fat later in life, she concluded, but she also considered, by the restless movement of his body in the chair, that for the present that heaviness would be kept back by constant activity.
As she found herself pushed nearer by the press behind, she saw that his features were square cut, the nose large and dominant and the mouth wide and generous. It was the eyes that saved the face from being thought nondescript. They were piercingly bright, beneath heavy sandy brows, and were now surveying the company with intense interest. She could not determine their colour—possibly blue grey—but they were alight with intelligence.
The mouth was curving now into a confident smile and it was clear that this was no boring dutiful audience but a sincere attempt to gauge the feelings of those present. Yes, she decided, he might not have the comeliness of his famed sire, but he would be, she was sure, intensely attractive to women.
She was pushed close to Alain by the movement of the crowd and saw that he was regarding her very intently. Momentarily she was angered. Was he always to suspect her natural interest in each man she met as threatening their relationship? Then, almost immediately, she experienced a strong emotional surge running right through her body as she realised the intensity of his new-found love for her.
They had no opportunity for a while to get any nearer to the dais, for, one by one, men were summoned up to the high table to place their petitions before the youthful Count.
Alain whispered in her ear, “The dark, heavily built man is the Earl of Chester, the other, Robert, Earl of Gloucester, the late King Henry’s illegitimate son and Count Henry’s uncle. He has supported the Empress, his half-sister, for almost the entire length of this campaign.”
“Is he a good soldier?” she whispered back.
“The very best, a formidable enemy. Fortunately I am not acquainted with him, but Chester has seen me once or twice in King Stephen’s company.”
She swallowed hard and glanced nervously around her. The very air of this place, thick with the stink of food served earlier, unwashed bodies and smoke spoke to her of Alain’s very real peril.
She could not hear what was said, but the young Count appeared to be gracious to those who pressed him for support. She could see that men were leaving the hall more satisfied than when they had arrived.
She wondered how they could have such confidence in this man when the war was not over and showed little sign of ever being concluded. She knew he had come once before to England but had been defeated by his own youthful inexperience and forced to return to Anjou, but he was older now and it was clear that he was winning the backing of many of the King’s former commanders.
There was a little stir near the door and men were pushed away to form a space for a newcomer with several men-at-arms as escort. These, differing from the mix of townsfolk and merchants around them, were wearing mail beneath their cloaks and sported serviceable broadswords and daggers.
Alain glanced hastily their way and put out a protective arm to draw his wife closer to him. Their leader was tall and, as he pushed back his hood, Gisela saw his mop of curling dark hair. For one moment he half-turned in her direction and she gave a great gasp of recognition.
Too late for Alain to restrain her, she thrust aside his arm and moved slightly forward, her lips parting in the total shock of seeing the newcomer in this company.
A page was announcing him as he bent the knee before the three seated at the high table.
“Baron Mauger de Cotaine of Offen, bringing urgent news for you from Malmesbury, my lords.”
The escorting men-at-arms ranged themselves behind their lord, instinctively protecting him from any jostling that might come from others impatient to put their complaints before Count Henry.
Gloucester welcomed the man, rising to greet him. “You are welcome, my lord. Count Henry is well aware of the many services you have done him and is glad to see you, at last, here in person.”
By the sheer fury of her desperation Gisela launched herself forward and the crowd, astounded by her determination, gave ground until she found herself standing almost beside her most hated foe. Even the men of de Cotaine’s escort were taken by surprise and unable to prevent her.
She stood before Count Henry, her breast rising and falling agitatedly as she turned and pointed an accusing finger at de Cotaine. Every other thought in her head—her husband’s danger, the reason for their presence here—had been cast out by the sight of this handsome, smiling devil.
“My lord,” she appealed to Count Henry, “I demand justice. This man is a monster of depravity, well known to be so in eastern England. He surrounds himself with the scum of England and France, routiers who live on his bounty, who, no doubt, pay him a considerable sum from the spoils they take by preying on their hapless neighbours. His devils attacked my home, half-destroyed it and nearly killed my father.
“I have sworn to take vengeance upon him, my lord, and I appeal to you, for I know you have true justice at heart, to grant me this and arrest and try this man for his many crimes against those you profess to be your subjects.”
There was instant commotion within the hall. Two men of de Cotaine’s escort tried to seize Gisela to prevent any further outbursts, but Count Henry half-rose in his chair and caused them to desist by the commanding movement of one upheld hand.
Gisela was panting and trembling but her fury was draining all fear from her. She continued to hold her ground while the Earl of Chester bawled for silence as pandemonium broke out amongst the townsfolk in the lower hall. Gisela felt a touch on her arm and turned, half-stung in surprise, to find Lord Alain at her side. Angry tears blinded her to the sight of his shocked features, pale with anger as great as her own.
Mauger de Cotaine was protesting his innocence, but could hardly be heard above the excited commotion. The Earl of Gloucester banged down the base of the heavy salt cellar upon the table and added his voice to Chester’s to call for quiet.
“My lords, good people, all of you, allow us to investigate the reason for this disturbance. Stand back, please, do no harm to the lady. This matter will be dealt with, I assure you, and then we will proceed with the business for which this meeting was called.”
It was some considerable time before peace was partially restored. De Cotaine’s men resumed their efforts to seize and silence Gisela but were restrained by Alain and men in Gloucester’s livery and both Gisela and Alain found themselves surrounded and virtual prisoners. Struggling in Alain’s grasp, she realised, too late, what this stupidly impulsive action had cost them both.
She turned, her blue eyes swimming with tears, appealing to him frantically for understanding. He remained impassively silent, and she was not sure whether that was because he thought it impossible to be heard over the general noise or whether he was
too angry with her to find suitable words.
De Cotaine spat out at last, his genial smiling face, for once, dark with anger, “The woman is raving. I do not know what she is talking about.”
He shrugged and spread his two hands in a deprecating gesture. “My lords, I know nothing of any of this. I can only suppose this poor wench is suffering from delusions.”
“I was Gisela of Brinkhurst,” she retorted, “and you know my family well. All in our county of Rutland know this fiend by reputation and yet still he walks abroad unchallenged.”
The Earl of Chester’s black eyes were now unblinkingly fixed upon Alain. He put into the argument.
“This woman is now married to Baron Alain de Treville,” he announced, “one of King Stephen’s ablest commanders and now master of Allestone Castle. Here, I believe, is the man himself and I ask myself why he is in your presence, disguised, if I am any judge, an undoubted spy in our midst.”
Gisela gave an instinctive cry of alarm. “My lords, that is not so. He…”
The Earl of Gloucester made a gesture of command to his men.
“Let us deal with this matter privately, my lord,” he said, turning respectfully towards his nephew. “There can be nothing to be gained by ironing out these quarrels in open court.”
Count Henry was staring from this lovely, wild-eyed young woman to the handsome, jeering countenance of the man she accused. He gave a little start as his uncle looked to him for guidance.
“Indeed, yes,” he said quietly. “I suggest that the lady be conveyed to the ladies’ bower above, where we can interview her later and—” his sandy lashes half-veiled his sharp eyes as he looked at Alain “—as to the man, let him be well guarded, in the gatehouse.”
Gisela was weeping now as men separated her from Alain. Despite his frantic struggles to reach her, he was yanked away roughly towards the outer door.
“No, no,” she pleaded brokenly. “My husband has meant no harm to any here. You must listen…”
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