No Dark Place

14

The castle at Bristol was strongly built and strongly defended by Gloucester loyalists, which was the reason that Stephen had decided not to attempt it during the year before Earl Robert’s return to England. It received its lord with a warm welcome, and for the remainder of the war it would serve most effectively as the chief base of his operations.

The earl was in one of the smaller rooms off the Great Hall when the arrival of Simon’s party was announced to him. Simon was escorted to him, with Hugh at his side.

Robert, Earl of Gloucester, the greatest noble in England after the king himself, was a squarely built man of middle height. His brown hair and short beard were streaked with gray, and his brown eyes looked levelly and intelligently at Simon and Hugh as they came into the smallish room, whose walls were hung with embroidered tapestries of the hunt. The tapestries were not only there to lend beauty to the room; they also provided protection against the damp and cold of the stone walls.

“My lord,” said Simon. He went immediately to kneel in front of his feudal lord, who was seated on a backless bench that had high, elaborately carved sides. “How glad I am to see you returned to us.”

“Thank you, Simon,” the earl replied. His voice was of the middle register, calm and quiet. There was nothing at all about him that was remarkable. Even his green tunic was merely serviceable.

His eyes never once flicked toward Hugh.

“I have come to offer you my sword and the swords of all those who follow me,” Simon said.

“I am pleased to hear that, Simon.” The earl’s face remained grave. “Every sword is welcome to our cause.”

“Men will soon be pouring in to join you,” Simon said firmly. “You shall see.”

“All of my feudal vassals have been quick to voice their support,” Robert said. “I greatly appreciate their loyalty.”

He gestured to Simon to rise.

Simon got to his feet a little slowly. He was no longer a young man. “Of course your vassals will support you, my lord. But…what of the other barons and earls?”

Robert’s face hardened infinitesimally. “The two greatest men who have come forward are Miles, Constable of Gloucester, and Brian fitz Count, who has pledged us the fortress of Wallingford in the Thames Valley. Wallingford is virtually impregnable itself, and its location will be invaluable to my sister’s cause. It poses a direct threat to Oxford and will be a menace to communications with London for any royalist force operating in the upper Thames region and beyond.”

Not a large contingent, Hugh thought, and outside Robert himself, it contained none of England’s greatest magnates. It would be a considerable coup if Robert could add the Earl of Wiltshire to his list of adherents.

“My lord,” said Simon. His voice indicated that he, too, was disturbed by the lack of Robert’s support. “I bring you someone whom I think you will be very interested to meet.” He gestured to Hugh, who had been standing a few steps behind him. “Come forward, Hugh.”

Hugh moved forward until he was standing beside Simon, directly in front of the seated earl.

“This is my nephew, Hugh de Leon,” Simon announced. “He is the son of my sister and Roger de Leon, the previous Earl of Wiltshire.”

Silence fell as Robert stared at Hugh, his brows contracted. At last, “I thought Roger’s son was dead,” he said.

“So did we all,” Simon replied. “It is nothing short of a miracle that he has been returned to us. I do not know if you have heard the full story, my lord, of how my sister’s husband came to die…”

Hugh lifted his eyes to the figures embroidered on the tapestry hanging on the wall behind the earl and listened with half an ear as Simon recounted once again the tale of Roger’s murder and his own kidnapping.

The great deerhound had been most cunningly done, he thought, as he regarded the sequence of the hunt that made up the panel hanging over the earl’s head.

“I did not know this,” Earl Robert replied when Simon had finally finished. “I knew that Roger had been killed, of course, but murdered…?”

A little unwillingly, Hugh returned his attention to the conversation.

“Aye, my lord, murdered,” Simon said grimly.

“But why was this not made public knowledge?” Robert demanded. “The murder of an earl is a matter of the utmost gravity.”

Simon shifted a little on his feet. “The murderer was killed himself, my lord, taking his secrets with him. There was little to gain by making the matter a public scandal. We thought that Hugh was dead, you see. It was not until one of Roger’s vassals discovered him at the Battle of the Standard that we learned otherwise.”

Robert’s eyes fixed themselves upon Hugh. “Why did you not make yourself known sooner?” he said sternly.

Hugh hated this, hated having to reveal his disability over and over again to strangers. “I remembered nothing of my past,” he said tightly. “I still don’t.”

Robert’s incredulous stare was the twin of all the stares Hugh had been the target of whenever he made this revelation.

“You don’t remember?” Robert said in disbelief.

“No,” said Hugh icily. “I don’t remember.”

“There can be no doubt about who he is, my lord,” Simon put in hastily. “He wears his heritage on his face.”

Several high-backed chairs had been grouped around a square table at one end of the room, and now Robert of Gloucester rose from his bench and moved toward them, signaling Simon and Hugh to follow.

Hugh admired the earl’s adroitness. The move gave him time to think.

When they were seated at the table, Robert and Simon facing each other with Hugh between them, the earl turned to Hugh. “So,” he said, “you are Roger de Leon’s son.”

“Aye,” said Hugh. His face gave away nothing.

Robert leaned back in his chair and rested his hands upon the arms. “Roger de Leon was one of the heroes of my youth,” he said reminiscently. “Did you know that his deeds at the taking of Jerusalem and Ascalon rang throughout the whole of the Christian world? And after, when so many of the leaders of the Crusade did naught but squabble greedily among themselves over the spoils of war, Roger alone stood aloof. He was content to be a Knight of Christ; he needed no other reward for his valor.”

Hugh watched the earl and said nothing.

Robert went on, “All of this happened years before you were born, of course.” His voice took on a censorious note. “Like most of your generation, you probably know little about the campaigns of the Crusade and the men who fought them.”

Hugh’s face never changed. He did not reply.

The earl allowed the silence to go on for a few more moments. Then he said, “I met your father once, when he first returned to England after his elder brother’s death.” His eyes narrowed. “You do have his eyes.”

Hugh said, “So I have been told.”

“Who is the one responsible for the murder of so great a man?” Robert demanded. “No mere household knight would have dared such a thing on his own.”

Hugh’s hands were folded quietly on the tabletop in front of him. “I intend to find out the answer to that question, my lord,” he said.

Robert frowned. “Where was his brother when Roger was killed?”

Hugh’s fingers tightened infinitesimally. “That is also something I intend to find out.”

The earl’s intelligent eyes were steady on Hugh’s face. “I could help you,” he said.

Hugh’s expression did not change.

“You are intelligent enough to realize that my sister’s cause would benefit greatly if we could add Wiltshire to our list of adherents,” the earl said. “I will make you an offer that will be to our mutual benefit, Hugh de Leon. I will make you the Earl of Wiltshire if you will promise to throw your support to us.”

Simon might not have been in the room, so concentrated were the other two upon each other.

“And just how do you propose to do that, my lord?” Hugh asked, his voice very soft.

Robert leaned a little forward in his chair. His eyes were locked on Hugh’s. “We’ll begin by taking some of the castles that Guy controls and putting our men in charge of them. That will be a challenge that Guy cannot ignore. He will have to try to retake them. If we are lucky, we’ll be able to capture him.” Slowly, Robert leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Hugh’s. “Once we have Guy in our hands, you will be able to discover just how involved he was in your father’s death.” Robert’s lips tightened. “I confess, I would like to know the answer to that question myself.”

“And if Guy goes to Stephen for redress?” Hugh said. “If it is the king himself who comes against those castles you have taken?”

“We will have to meet Stephen at some time or another,” Robert said. “And Wiltshire is worth the gamble.”

Simon’s party stayed in Bristol for two more days, then left to return to Evesham. Hugh managed to depart without making any commitment to Robert of Gloucester. Simon was not happy about this indecision, but Gloucester himself was clever enough not to press too hard.

He knew he had dangled a very attractive bait. He was willing to give the fish time to bite.

It was a misty, drizzly morning when Simon’s party set out from Bristol. They had traveled several hours when a heavy rain began to fall and Simon decided to put up at an inn in Gloucester rather than continue on to Evesham in the bad weather.

The inn Simon chose was crowded with other travelers who had been caught by the rain, but Simon, by far the most noble guest, was able to command two rooms, one for himself and one for his men.

Hugh spent the evening in the tap room with Philip, drinking ale and politely warding off the advances of the barmaids, who supplemented their income by plying the world’s oldest profession.

Philip pretended to be hugely insulted by the girls’ obvious interest in Hugh.

“I am not accustomed to having my manly charms so slightly regarded,” he grumbled.

As he had a girl on each knee when he made this remark, no one paid him much attention.

Hugh, who had his chair to himself, snorted.

One of the girls ran her fingers through Philip’s golden hair. “How’s about another drink, luv?” she asked.

“I’ll get it,” Hugh said. “Your hands appear to be full at the moment.”

Philip grinned.

The tavern was warm and steamy. It smelled of wet wool and too many male bodies crammed into too small a space. Philip, watching, saw Hugh’s nose wrinkle in distaste as he waved his hand to signal that he wanted three more flagons.

While the innkeeper was drawing the ale, another of the tavern girls approached Hugh. As Philip watched, the girl rubbed her ripe body against him and said something.

Hugh shook his head and said something back to her.

A sulky look came over the girl’s pretty face.

Hugh patted her on the arm in a friendly fashion, and reached for his flagons of ale.

“What’s the matter with your friend, luv?” one of the girls who was sitting on Philip’s knee asked. “Doesn’t he like women?”

“A good-looking lad like that, it’d be a crime if he didn’t,” the other one said.

“I’m insulted,” Philip complained. “Here you are, sitting on my knees, and you’re talking about another man.”

Cooing, both girls turned their attention to him.

Hugh threaded his way through the noisy crowd, put the flagons of ale upon the table without spilling a drop, and said to Philip, “I’m going to bed.”

Philip and his girls watched his slender figure disappear up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Philip said to his companions, “Don’t feel too rejected. He already has a girl.”

“Lucky thing,” the girl on his left knee replied, then she leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth.

When Philip finally came upstairs to the bedroom he was sharing with Hugh and Simon’s other knights, he was alone. The rain had stopped earlier and moonlight was coming in through the open window of the crowded room, making it bright enough for Philip to see that Hugh was still awake.

He was lying on his back, one arm flung over his head, his open eyes on Philip.

“The girls thought that maybe you fancied men instead of women,” Philip informed him as he stripped off his tunic.

“If it made them happy to think that, then let them,” Hugh said unconcernedly.

Philip sat on his straw mattress and began to unlace his boots. “Why are you still awake? Regretting the voluptuous pleasures you so carelessly passed up?”

“They probably all had the pox,” Hugh said.

“They probably did,” Philip agreed. “But it wouldn’t have hurt you to buy them a drink and let them sit on your lap.”

“I hope you had sense enough not to do anything more than that.”

“I’m not a randy enough fool to fall into the sack with a tavern girl,” Philip said impatiently.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you still awake?”

Hugh made a face. “Listen to that cacophony. Who can sleep in the midst of so much noise?”

The rest of the knights were deeply asleep and snoring lustily from all the ale they had drunk.

“You’re spoiled,” Philip said. He put his boots to the side and prepared to stretch out in his shirt and hose. “Not everyone grew up with the luxury of a bedroom of his own, like you. You get used to the snoring.”

“You do?” Hugh sounded unconvinced.

“I thought perhaps you might be thinking about Gloucester’s offer,” Philip said.

Hugh’s response was unexpectedly candid. “I have been.”

“And have you decided what you are going to do?”

“Not yet. I need to talk it over first.”

“Nigel Haslin is Stephen’s man,” Philip warned. “He’ll try to talk you into going to Stephen.”

“It’s not Nigel I want to talk to,” Hugh said. Then, when Philip tried to ask another question, Hugh shut his eyes, rolled over on his side, and told Philip to go to sleep.

The sun was shining when they arose the following morning, but none of Simon’s knights appeared to appreciate the brightness of the day.

“Too much ale,” Hugh diagnosed solemnly when he saw Philip wince as he stepped out of the shadow of the inn into the merciless light of the yard.

Hugh himself had had scarcely any sleep at all, but he looked alert and rested compared to the rest of Simon’s party.

Simon himself had gone to bed early in his own private room, and he was full of energy and ready to start for Evesham. His pain-wracked knights trailed along behind him to the stableyard, mounted up, and rode stoically through the streets of Gloucester, heading for the road that would take them home.

Simon kept his horse next to Hugh’s and spent the entire ride trying to talk him into accepting Gloucester’s offer. Hugh spent the entire ride returning noncommittal replies to Simon’s arguments.

He was very glad to reach Evesham, where he hoped he would be able to escape, if only briefly, from Simon’s insistent presence.

The Lady Alyce was waiting in the Great Hall to greet them when they walked in.

“You are welcome home, my lord,” she said to Simon and held her face up to him for the kiss of peace.

Then she turned to Hugh.

“I have a wonderful surprise for you,” she said. Her eyes were sparkling like a young girl’s. “Guess who has come to visit?”

Hugh looked back at her blankly. He hated guessing games and had no reply.

“Your mother!” Alyce said triumphantly.

Hugh froze.

“I sent to Worcester to tell her you were here and she arrived yesterday. In all that rain!” Alyce was bubbling on, completely oblivious to Hugh’s reaction. “She was so anxious to see you that she couldn’t wait.”

Simon spoke into the silence. “Isabel is here?”

Alyce gave her lord a radiant smile. “She is upstairs, my lord.” She turned back to Hugh. “I promised her I would send you to see her the moment you returned.”

The silence in the hall was catastrophic. Finally even Alyce noticed that something was wrong.

“I will take you to her myself,” she said, but with less confidence than she had spoken before.

Hugh’s face was as white as parchment. Then, still without speaking a word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the hall.

The people he left behind stood for a moment as if they had been glued into place. Then Simon cursed and started after him.

The horses they had ridden from Bristol had not yet left the bailey, and Simon was in time to see Hugh leap onto Rufus’s back and ride out through the inner gates of the castle.

“God’s bones,” he said through his teeth.

“That bastard.” It was Philip Demain, standing at his side. “Do you want me to go after him?”

“No,” Simon said in a flat voice. “Let him go.”

Philip shoved his hand through his hair. “What the hell is wrong with him?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Simon said. Unlike Philip, he did not appear to be angry. He merely looked bleak. “Judas. I am going to have to tell Isabel what happened.”

The lady Alyce accompanied her husband to Isabel’s bedchamber and listened in fulminating silence while he told his sister that Hugh had left the castle.

Alyce waited for Isabel to cry out with dismay. Instead she sat silent, staring at her brother. The only sign she gave of distress was that all of the color drained from her face.

“I’m sorry, Isabel,” Simon said in a gruff voice. “Alyce should not have invited you so precipitately.”

“And why not, I should like to know?” Alyce demanded, defending herself. She glared at her husband. “Who could have suspected that Hugh would behave in such a fashion? What in the name of God is wrong with that boy?”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Isabel replied in a steady voice.

Alyce stepped forward with some notion of taking her sister-in-law into her arms to comfort her.

There were no tears in Isabel’s dark blue eyes, however. Her face was white, but she had herself under strict control. Only the trembling of her hands in her lap betrayed her feelings.

“I should have waited for him to come to me,” was all she said. Her face told Alyce not to embrace her. “It was my fault for behaving too rashly.”

“I don’t think it’s rash for a mother to want to see the son she thought was dead,” Alyce said angrily.

“He was not ready,” Isabel replied. Her skin looked parchment-thin over her perfect bones.

Alyce used her husband’s favorite oath. “God’s bones, what did he have to be ready for? You’re his mother!”

“Quiet, my lady,” Simon said. “Isabel is upset enough already.”

Abashed, Alyce reined in her temper. Simon was right. “I did not mean to shout at you, Isabel,” she said.

Isabel gave Alyce a shadowy smile. The sun pouring in the window illuminated her face, revealing the fine lines around her eyes and her mouth.

“Is there aught we can do for you?” Alyce asked.

“I would like to see Father Anselm, if he is here,” Isabel said.

“I’ll send him to you,” Simon said. “And now that you have finally returned to Evesham, I hope that you will remain with us.”

She shook her head. “No, Simon, I shall return to Worcester in the morning.”

“You don’t have to pray for him any longer, Isabel,” Simon said grimly. “I can assure you that he is very much alive.”

Her face, if possible, looked even more ghostlike than it had before. “For all these years I have been praying for myself,” she said. “I was the one who needed Hugh to be alive. Now the time has come for me to pray for him.”

Stupid woman, Hugh thought as he cantered Rufus away from the walls of Evesham. To bring her there, without telling me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

His heart was hammering, his breathing was coming fast, and it was not due to the pace at which he was he was riding.

He continued to vilify the Lady Alyce for the next fifteen minutes while he cantered Rufus along the wide, well-kept road that would take him south, to Somerford. The vale of Evesham stretched around him on all sides, with its abundant fields that belonged to Simon’s honor, but Hugh was completely unaware of the richness through which he was passing.

At last, his bodily functions began to regulate themselves and his brain began to function once again. He slowed the white stallion, who had already made one journey today and would tire quickly if Hugh continued to push him.

It had been pure instinct, to turn and run when Lady Alyce had made that announcement.

Now instinct gave way to thought.

What must they think of him at Evesham? How was he ever going to explain his action?

How could he explain it to himself?

I can’t explain it. I just know that I can’t see her. Not yet.

It was the only explanation that he could find, this instinctive feeling he had about not wanting to see his mother.

For she was his mother. She must be. Everyone said how much he looked like her.

The living image of Isabel.

He closed his eyes and longed for Isabel to be Adela. His love for his foster mother had been total and uncomplicated, as hers had been for him.

This had not been the kind of relationship he had known with his own mother. He knew that. If it had been, he would not be feeling the way he was.

If Isabel had been Adela, he would have rushed up those stairs and thrown himself into her arms.

Instead, he had run away.

I ran away.

He never ran away from anything. It was one of the laws he lived his life by. It was why he had forced himself to go to Somerford, even though the rational part of him had said to remain safely at Keal.

But he had most certainly run away from Isabel.

Why? What had happened in his childhood that made him so fearful of seeing his mother?

He didn’t want to find out.

Still running away, he thought, and his lips compressed into a thin hard line.

He wrenched his mind away from what had happened at Evesham and looked for the first time at the countryside through which he was passing.

The road had left the Vale of Evesham and become a forest track, closely hemmed in on either side. He was riding through Gloucestershire now, with Wiltshire lying just to his south.

He thought of the offer Earl Robert had made to him.

He wanted to find out who had killed his father and he wanted to be the Earl of Wiltshire.

But he knew he would rather achieve both those aims on his own.