Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 Page 19

  Stepping from the walk, he wrapped his worn one around a beggar wearing a threadbare tunic.

  Talan followed suit, finding a young boy dressed in rags. Turning back to Reina, he smiled. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Did you think I would make you suffer through a whole day of shopping without recompense, Talan?”

  They both laughed.

  Stopping at a tavern for an early supper, the trio enjoyed what remained of their freedom. With so many people about, Reina could not join the discourse so she sat back, content to see the two friends banter about old times.

  When they could delay their return no longer, they slowly made their way back to the Hall.

  Handing Gervase and Talan a denier to spend, she spent the rest of Henry’s silver by giving a coin to every beggar she passed.

  * * * *

  The following days were hectic as Westminster Hall prepared for the move to the country. King Henry remained active wrapping up pressing matters that could not wait for his return.

  Early one morning, Reina spotted Geoffrey of Anjou approaching the dais.

  Without bowing, he doffed his cap. “King Henry, it has been brought to my attention that I am to share a barge for the move to Windsor.”

  Henry frowned. “Is that a problem, count?”

  Geoffrey waved a hand arrogantly. “You most of all, should know the hazards of travelling by water. I am the heir of Anjou. I do not feel it prudent to overcrowd the barge in which I am sailing.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Henry asked, “Do you dare remind me of the White Ship?” Straightening in his seat, Henry leaned forward. The threat in his posture, unmistakable.

  Geoffrey immediately backed down. “King Henry, all of Anjou stood devastated to hear the news of your beloved son’s drowning. I am merely seeing to my safety.” Belatedly adding, “Along with that of your daughter’s.”

  Henry turned to his closest advisor. “Ensure the count and his entourage sail on their own barge.”

  Returning his cold gaze to Geoffrey, he flicked a hand as if he were a troublesome gnat. “If that is all, be gone with you.”

  Geoffrey donned his cap, before making a hasty retreat.

  Waiting for the next petitioner, Henry slowly surveyed the crowded hall, before resting his gaze on Reina. Calling for a recess, he motioned for her to precede him from the hall.

  Once they were alone in the anteroom, he turned on her. “Have you made your ability known to anyone at court, your ladyship?” Startled by his abrupt manner, Reina’s eyes widened as she shook her head in denial.

  Henry’s brow furrowed. “If that is the case, I fear someone must suspect. You are drawing far too many suspicious glances for my liking.” He paused a moment, making up his mind. “I hereby release you until the court removes itself to Windsor. Plan your departure for the morrow. We shall follow within the next sennight.”

  As Reina dropped into a curtsey, he waited for her gaze to return to him. “I have sent a messenger to summon your husband to Windsor, your ladyship. Does that please you?”

  Her answering smile caused the corner of his lip to twitch. “I see that it does.”

  Finding Talan and Gervase, she waited for them to acknowledge her. Dipping his head, Gervase, said, “My lady. Please excuse me, I am overdue for my …err…ah… meeting with the Lady Adelaide.”

  A knowing smile lifted her lips as he weaved his way through the milling nobles.

  Clasping Talan’s arm, she rushed him into an alcove. “The king has released me until court moves to Windsor. He has instructed that we depart on the morrow.”

  Talan looked surprised. “Did he say why he was releasing you, my lady?”

  “He fears someone suspects me.” She hastened to add, “I am most careful not to look at any one person for long, Talan.”

  “Please do not be concerned, my lady. Did the king say when he plans to move court?”

  “He plans on arriving in the country within the next fortnight.” She smiled. “Talan, he has sent for Fulke.”

  * * * *

  Fulke entered the tavern to join Guy, Osbert and Warin as Lecie came from the kitchen bearing a tray.

  “My thanks, Lecie,” he acknowledged when she set a steaming bowl of pottage and warm roll in front of him.

  “I shall be back in a moment with ale to quench your thirst, your lordship. Do you know if Sir Albin will be joining the table?”

  Taking in Lecie’s blush, Albin’s strange behavior began to make sense. “I was just about to send my page to fetch him.”

  Shoving his chair back, Warin jumped to the task.

  Albin’s heavy tread sounded on the steps soon after .

  “Take a seat, my friend,” Fulke called, fighting a grin. “Lecie will no doubt be right out to tend your needs.”

  Albin pulled out the chair across from him, grumbling under his breath. He cleared his throat uncomfortably when Lecie appeared.

  Placing a steaming bowl of pottage before him, she asked, “Would you care for a mug of ale or some cider, Sir Albin?”

  “Ale would be fine lass,” he mumbled.

  Craning his neck to follow her progress to the bar, he met Fulke’s knowing grin. “Not a word, Fulke, I mean it.”

  Lecie returned to the table with a brimming full mug, just as Guy asked, “Not a word about what? What juicy tidbit are you keeping from us, Albin?”

  Three things happened simultaneously after that. Albin choked on the roll he had just bitten into, Lecie lost her grip on the mug, spilling the majority of ale into Albin’s lap, and Fulke feigned a cough to cover his burst of laughter.

  Seeing what she had done, Lecie cried, “Oh Sir Albin, forgive me,” dabbing at his tunic with a linen cloth.

  Warin reached over to pound Albin on the back, handing over his own mug for him to take a drink.

  Swallowing a large gulp of ale, the roll found its intended destination. He abruptly shifted away from Lecie’s ministrations to stand. Yanking down his tunic, he ignored the smirking men. With his back to her, he called over his shoulder, “No harm done lass.”

  Giving in to his laughter, Fulke heard Albin cursing all the way up the steps.

  * * * *

  Fulke stood beside the master builder on a raised platform as a score of men hoisted a support beam into position. He turned as a horse and rider crested a distant rise beyond the tower. Shielding his eyes against the sun’s glare, he recognized Henry’s royal livery.

  Bidding farewell to the tower’s architect, he leapt from the platform. Before he had straightened completely from the high jump, he was running for the outer wall.

  He slowed his pace through the gate as the rider reined in beside him.

  “Your lordship, King Henry commands your presence at Windsor for a meeting of the barons.”

  He feigned surprise to hear the news, replying, “Inform the king, I shall depart on the morrow at lauds.”

  “I shall do so. Good day, your lordship.” Reining around, the messenger rode off to his next destination.

  Running for his horse, he shouted for Albin. He had no intention of waiting until dawn.

  He vaulted into the saddle as Albin came rushing through the gate. “I take it the summons has come?”

  Fulke grinned. “To Windsor.” Spurring his horse, he raced towards town.

  Striding through the common room, he spotted his men lounging by the fire. “We make for Windsor, layabouts.”

  Whoops of merriment followed him up the stairs.

  * * * *

  Hoping to make Windsor by nightfall, the weather turned against them. Outside of Buckinghamshire, the sleeting rain turned into a blinding blizzard. Determined to push onward, the horses began to struggle against the driving force of the wind.

  Left with no choice, Fulke led the men to the nearest town. Finding a hostelrie, he reluctantly prepared to wait out the storm.

  He brushed the melting snow from his hair as he entered the warmth of the overflowing common room. Scanning for an empty
table, he spotted the king’s nephew Stephen of Blois speaking in hushed tones to a group of noblemen surrounding him.

  Spying his entrance, Stephen called, “Fulke, my old friend.” Rising, he approached.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Count Blois,” Fulke spoke loud enough to be heard over the din. “I take it you make for Windsor?”

  “Aye.” Stephen laughed. “Leave it to Henry to move the court in the dead of winter.”

  “I assumed you would be travelling with the king.”

  Stephen gave him a wry smile. “Travelling by barge with Henry’s entourage is one spectacle I choose to forego.” He leaned close. “I wonder now that we find ourselves together, if we might share a word in private.”

  “Aye, of course.”

  Following behind Stephen, he gestured for his men to be seated.

  In the darkened passage, Stephen opened several doors until he found an empty storage room.

  Closing the door to lean upon it, Fulke asked, “What is the real reason you are not travelling with the king?”

  Perched on a barrel, Stephen laughed. “I never could deceive you, Fulke.” Turning serious, he said, “You are aware that Henry intends to have the barons swear allegiance to Matilda?” At his curt nod, Stephen continued, “I intend to oppose her ascension to the throne.”

  Taken aback, it took Fulke a moment to respond. “You are talking treason. Henry could have you thrown in the Tower for less.”

  Stephen held up a hand. “I have no treachery in my heart for my uncle, Fulke. I have found him to be a just and noble king.” He frowned. “That is, until his ill-conceived notion to name the bitch he sired, heir.”

  “Yet, you plot against him?” Fulke asked incredulously.

  “You misunderstand. No move will be made against the crown so long as Henry lives. He has left me no other choice, Fulke.”

  “Henry has been currying favor on Matilda’s behalf for some time now. Who else is aware of your intent?”

  “There are those who will not be swayed,” he said lightly, staring pointedly at Fulke. “Yet, there are also many on my side.”

  “What of Henry’s intent to unite Matilda with Geoffrey?”

  “Fie. That pompous ass is no more fit to rule than Matilda. It would be in Henry’s best interest to send him back to Anjou where he belongs.”

  “Stephen, I am loyal to Henry. What would you have me do with such knowledge?”

  “Fulke,” he sighed. “You have not only saved Henry’s life on the battlefield, you have on countless occasions guarded my back. The last thing I intend to do is put your loyalty to Henry in jeopardy. I merely wished to inform you of where things stand in the hopes you will consider supporting my claim once he is gone.”

  “Il qui essaye de servir deux maîtrise des services ni l'un ni l'autre,”[2] Fulke replied softly.

  Stephen threw his head back and laughed. “Your loyalty is what makes me yearn to have you on my side, Fulke.”

  Thinking of Henry’s hold over Reina, he said, “I will not go against Henry in this matter. Matilda shall have my allegiance.”

  Stephen shrugged it off. “Were Henry as wise as his learning suggests, he would realize a man would swear to anything when their balls are held between iron pincers.”

  “There are those who would falsely take the oath?” The thought alone was unconscionable to Fulke.

  It was Stephen’s turn to look surprised. “Do you think it would be the first time for them to do so? Henry could make them beggars on a mere whim. You yourself have been the beneficiary of his rage. Did you deem Castell Maen built for you? Are you honestly surprised that men would lie to protect what is theirs by right of birth?”

  “It never would have occurred to me to do so.”

  “I know my friend. I know it. It is why I hold your opinion in such high esteem. With your backing my claim, it would prove what I say to be right.”

  “I am sorry, Stephen, it is not something I can decide so long as Henry lives.” Troubled by the discussion, he ran a hand along the back of his neck. Stephen’s intent did not bode well for the future peace of England.

  Grasping his thoughts, Stephen backed off. “Come, my friend. If I know Henry, the time we speak of is far off. Let me stand you a drink in celebration of your recent nuptials.” He straightened, staring intently at Fulke. “I assume your marriage is a cause for celebration?”

  Mention of Reina had him pushing the matter to the back of his mind. “Aye Stephen, it is.

  “Can it be that her ladyship has managed to tame Henry’s most licentious knight?” Stephen jested.

  “If I recall correctly, we competed against each other for the title,” he replied with a smile.

  “That was before I found my own sweet Matilda.” He shook his head. “How she can be so different from my cousin astounds me.”

  “In that, I am pleased my bride’s parents did not go the popular route in naming Reina after William’s queen.”

  “You do not protest the fact that Henry has set your wife up as his favorite?”

  “Egad Stephen, you act as though I have a choice in the matter.”

  Stephen frowned, deep in thought. “It is not something I would have expected from my uncle. I know him to be quite fond of you.”

  “Henry does nothing without reason,” Fulke replied evasively.

  Stephen pressed for the advantage. “Humiliating you before the court after all you have done for him is proof he is no longer making able decisions.”

  “The king’s motives are his own, Stephen.” Hoping for an end to the conversation, he continued, “Even those closest to him are not privy to his innermost thoughts.”

  “If you think he beds her, you have nothing to fear on that account.” Stephen sought to reassure him. “I have it on the best authority that my uncle has been unable to rise to the occasion for quite some time now.”

  “Then he would have no need for a favorite, Stephen.”

  “Henry is nothing, if not proud, Fulke. Having to conceal a secret such as his, whom better to select than a woman who cannot speak of his lack of prowess?”

  Stephen concluded Reina’s presence was nothing more than an image for Henry to prove his waning virility. The king did indeed have himself the perfect spy.

  Continuing the charade, Fulke laced his question with disgust. “Does not over a score of illegitimate issue speak well enough of the king’s prowess?”

  Stephen huffed, “To most it would. To Henry, he only sees himself as having had and having lost, one son.”

  On those treasonous words they re-entered the common room. Calling to the tapster, Stephen slid a mug over to Fulke before holding up his own. “God’s blessings on your union.”

  He acknowledged with a nod before responding with a tribute of his own. “May God steer you on a path that is just, Stephen.”

  “I beg your pardon, my liege.” Warin interrupted.

  “Ah Warin. Come meet Count Blois.” Turning to Stephen, he said, “This is my page and wife’s brother, Warin of Kenwick.”

  Stephen dipped his head.

  Warin’s eyes widened. “It is indeed an honor to meet you, Count Blois.”

  “It is always refreshing to meet someone in awe of meeting me.” Stephen leaned close to Warin. “How fair you in his lordship’s service, young page?”

  “I could serve no man finer,” Warin replied proudly.

  Stephen gripped Fulke’s shoulder. “Further proof of what I speak.”

  Unwilling to continue the topic, Fulke asked, “Why did you seek me out, lad?”

  “The worst of the storm appears to have passed, my liege.”

  Blowing out a breath in frustration, he replied, “We may as well take rooms for the night.”

  “You surprise me, Fulke,” Stephen said. “If it were my wife waiting mere miles away, I would not tarry the night at a tavern.”

  Fulke swung around in surprise. “Is not Henry in residence at Westminster Hall?”

  Steph
en chuckled. “Aye, Henry is. Your wife is not. He sent her ahead days ago.”

  Fulke jumped to his feet. “Warin, gather the men.”

  Gripping Stephen’s shoulder, he said, “For the good of England, I shall take your words to heart.”

  “Thank you, Fulke. Regardless of what the future holds, you can always count me as a friend.” He smiled. “Now go seek your fair wife.”

  SIXTEEN

  It was near dark by the time they rode within sight of Windsor. The thought of being with Reina again lifted the lead weight he had carried in his chest since last they parted. Fulke had finally come to accept what had been there from the start. He loved her. More than himself, more than life itself, Reina had become everything to him. Unable to deny it any longer, he would tell her everything, before laying his heart at her feet.

  Dismounting by the stables, he led his horse in, surprised to find Talan and Gervase. He waited for the men to greet each other, before asking Talan, “Where is your lady?”

  Gervase spoke up, “She is resting, my liege. She has been overtired of late.”

  “She is in good health, my liege,” Talan reassured him.

  He nodded his relief. “What have you to report since last we spoke?”

  “I never thought to say it, my liege,” Gervase sighed, “but I am swived out.”

  The men laughed as Guy looked at his friend with concern. “Are you feeling ill, Gervase?”

  He turned to hang on Guy’s shoulder. “Trust me, I would rather fight a fully armed man in battle with my bare hands than be forced to flatter a bunch of shallow hen-wits for one moment longer.” He turned to Fulke with a grin. “Nevertheless, the seed has been planted, both literally and figuratively, my liege.”

  “Lady Reina informed me that the king believes suspicion has fallen her way. She was sent ahead to quell the rumors before they had a chance to spread further,” Talan added.

  Fulke felt a moment of unease. “The lady remains unaware of the plan?”

  “She suspects nothing, my liege. Will you tell her, now that you are here?” Talan asked.