No Dark Place

17

It was a mild, golden October day when Hugh and Nigel set off the following morning for Chippenham. The trees in the forest were brilliant with changing colors and the road they followed was for the most part good and broad, narrowing only in a few short stretches as they passed through a valley. Hugh and Nigel did not wear mail themselves, but they were escorted by six of Nigel’s knights, who carried the blue-and-white flag of Somerford and were dressed in full armor.

It was midafternoon when the great walls of Chippenham came into sight. Hugh looked once again at the scarlet flag with its device of the golden boar and felt something in his chest tighten. His face was expressionless, however, as they rode up to the gatehouse and were admitted into the bailey.

They surrendered their horses in the inner courtyard to two of Guy’s grooms and were escorted by one of the knights on guard up the stairs to the Great Hall.

There they found Lord Guy. He and his knights and a group of ladies had just come in from a pleasant few hours of hunting in the forest, and they were drinking wine and laughing and talking loudly in front of the fire.

The laughter and the talk died down as Hugh and Nigel crossed the floor.

Guy moved to meet them.

For a long silent moment, Hugh stared into a face that, except for the startling eyes, did not remotely resemble his. Guy’s cheekbones were broad and flat, not high and sculpted, his jaw was longer than Hugh’s, his lips fuller.

At the moment, his eyes were cold and dangerous-looking, even though a genial smile played around his lips.

“So,” he said. “Hugh Corbaille who says he is my long-lost nephew.”

“I think you know that I am,” Hugh said softly.

Guy shrugged. “It doesn’t matter one way or the other. There is nothing here for you at Chippenham. King Stephen himself has confirmed me in my title as earl.”

“So I have heard,” said Hugh.

Guy’s eyes moved to Nigel and then back again to Hugh. “Why have you come here, then?”

“I am a man who has lost his past, my lord,” Hugh said in the same soft tone he had used before. “I need to recapture it in order to make myself whole. I ask only that I might spend some time here in this castle where I grew up, that I be allowed to talk to some of the people who lived here when I was a child.”

“It will do you no good,” Guy said grimly.

“Perhaps not, but I need to try.”

The earl shrugged. “Then do so. There is nothing here I wish to hide from you, Hugh Corbaille.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Once more the cold gray eyes flicked toward Nigel. “And welcome to you also, Nigel Haslin.”

Guy’s voice was edged with steel.

Nigel bowed. “My lord.”

Guy gestured toward the group around the fire. “Come and meet your hostess, my cousin, the Lady Eleanor.”

Hugh walked beside his uncle toward the people who were staring at him, some surreptitiously, some openly. Guy was no taller than he, but was far more massively built. From the swell of his belly, it was clear that the earl enjoyed his food, but his neck was muscled, his shoulders broad and powerful, and he looked like a man to be reckoned with.

The golden-haired woman who had been beside Guy during the tournament came forward.

“My dear,” Guy said, “allow me to introduce Hugh Corbaille, who will be visiting us for a while. And I believe you already know my vassal, the lord of Somerford.”

The woman, who looked to be in her middle twenties, smiled at Hugh. Her eyes were round and blue, her nose was short and upturned, and she had a dimple in her left cheek.

Her teeth were not good. Hugh thought of Cristen’s pink mouth and perfect white teeth, and smiled politely at the lady Eleanor.

“Will you join us for some wine?” she asked courteously. “You must be thirsty after your journey.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Hugh said, and moved to join the group in front of the fire.

The first person he saw was the chestnut-haired knight who had evinced such hostility toward him upon their previous en-counters.

Hugh walked right over to him and said, “I am Hugh Corbaille.”

There could be no doubt about the emotion that was looking at him out of the knight’s pale green eyes. It was hatred, pure and simple.

The chestnut head nodded abruptly. “Aubrey d’Abrille,” he said.

“Have we met before?” Hugh inquired softly.

“I do not think so.” The knight’s voice was quiet also, although his eyes were savage.

“You appear to know me, though,” Hugh said.

“I do not know a Hugh Corbaille,” the man replied.

The two pairs of light eyes locked together.

Hugh was in no doubt that he had an enemy in this man, although he still didn’t know why.

“Sir Hugh?” said a sweet, feminine voice.

He broke eye contact with Aubrey d’Abrille and turned to the girl who had come up beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the chestnut-haired knight break away from the group and stride away across the floor.

They remained around the fire for another hour and then the lady Eleanor conducted Hugh and Nigel to a small bedroom, which they were to share, and left them to change their clothes for supper. William, the squire Nigel had brought to see to their needs, moved quietly around the room, putting things away while Hugh and Nigel talked by the unshuttered window.

“Who is this Lady Eleanor?” Hugh asked.

Nigel snorted. “If she’s his cousin, it’s a distant connection. He installed her at Chippenham two years ago, after his wife died.”

Pensively, Hugh scanned the scene outside the window. It afforded a good view of Chippenham’s extensive kitchen garden.

“All of the knights we just met were too young to have been here in my father’s time,” he remarked.

“There are some older knights in the household, though,” Nigel said. “We will probably see them at supper.”

Hugh nodded and turned his back on the window.

“Do you have any memory of which bedroom used to be yours?” Nigel asked.

Hugh shook his head. His face was looking strained.

Nigel lifted his hand to pat him on the back, then dropped it again as he remembered how much Hugh disliked to be touched.

He turned instead to William. “Get us some water, lad, so that we may wash.”

William straightened up from the wooden chest where he was arranging their clothes. “Aye, my lord,” he said.

When Hugh and Nigel had washed and put on fresh tunics and hose and house shoes, they descended once more to the Great Hall, which was being readied for supper.

This must be what it used to look like when I was a child, Hugh thought as he stared at the room in front of him, struggling to summon up a memory. The trestle tables had all been set up and the servants were putting out the saltcellars, steel knives and silver spoons.

Hugh’s eyes traveled slowly from the great fireplace along the high stone walls, and came to a stop at one of the tapestries featuring a knight on a horse.

It looked familiar.

Of course it looks familiar, he thought irritably. I’ve probably seen dozens of such tapestries in my life.

But there was something about the way the horse’s feet were placed…

He was distracted by the sound of a feminine voice addressing him.

“You are the knight who won the horsemanship contest at the tournament, are you not, Sir Hugh?”

“Aye.” Hugh forced his attention to the girl standing in front of him. Her hair was deeply auburn and her eyes a clear, azure blue. She gave him a dazzling smile, showing perfect, pearly white teeth.

“It was wonderful to see how at one you were with your horse,” she said admiringly.

“Thank you, you are very kind,” Hugh replied. He remembered meeting her earlier around the fire, but he had absolutely no recollection of her name.

“I believe you are to sit beside me at supper,” she said, as if she were conferring a great favor upon him. Her long lashes fluttered. “I should be so interested to hear how you trained your marvelous horse.”

Might as well make a clean breast of it, Hugh thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t remember your name.”

A flash of annoyance flickered across her lovely face. Then she gave a tinkling laugh. “It’s Cecily, my lord. Lady Cecily Martaine.”

“Lady Cecily,” Hugh said gravely.

Nigel was watching this byplay with a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Is your father Robert Martaine of Linkford?” he asked the girl.

Reluctantly she removed her eyes from Hugh’s face. “Aye, Sir Nigel. I came to Chippenham last year to serve the lady Eleanor.”

“I see,” said Nigel.

People had begun to drift toward the tables and Cecily laid a proprietary hand on Hugh’s sleeve. “Come,” she said, “and I will show you where you are to sit.”

They were not seated at the high table with Guy, but instead were placed at one of the trestle tables near the front of the hall. Hugh was disappointed to see that the other knights at the table were all under the age of thirty.

Hugh looked around for Aubrey d’Abrille and saw him sitting on the other side of the room.

The horn announcing dinner blew. Servants with ewers, basins, and towels attended to the guests so they could first wash their hands. Due to the fact that people shared dishes and ate with their fingers, Norman etiquette decreed that hands and nails must be kept scrupulously clean at table. A well-bred person also wiped his spoon and knife after use, and wiped his mouth before drinking as well.

The lady Cecily flirted outrageously with Hugh for the entire meal. It annoyed him intensely, as he wanted to be able to look around the hall to determine which of the men present might be of an age to be useful to him, and instead he was forced to pay attention to this pest of a girl.

Hugh had been brought up by Adela to be courteous to women, and he was courteous to Lady Cecily. But in his heart, he wanted to strangle her.

The final course was served and at last supper was over. Guy announced that after the tables had been cleared there would be dancing.

“How lovely!” Lady Cecily exclaimed, clapping her hands and flashing her perfect teeth.

“Aye,” Hugh said glumly.

Nigel was talking to a middle-aged woman whom he seemed to know, and Hugh was forced to stand with Lady Cecily while the floor was cleared. She talked gaily the whole time. In fact, all the men and women were talking gaily. And loudly. It appeared to Hugh that quite a bit of wine had been drunk at supper.

He saw no sign of Aubrey d’Abrille. The knight had apparently left the hall.

Finally the last table was removed, and Lord Guy moved onto the floor holding the lady Eleanor by the hand. He moved lightly for such a heavy man.

Lady Cecily seized Hugh’s hand and pulled him out to join the rest of the company. They spread out, forming a large circle in the middle of the rush-strewn floor.

Once the circle had been completed, and the alternating men and women were holding each other by the hand, Lord Guy asked genially, “Who will have the courtesy to sing for us?”

The music for dancing was always provided by the human voice.

One of the younger knights intoned a song for the leading voice and after a moment the rest of the company joined in. The men bowed, the ladies curtseyed, and the circle began to move. The dancing had begun.

Hugh went through the motions, his hand clasping the warm hand of the Lady Cecily, his feet moving automatically to the steps that Adela had taught him so many years before.

He did not sing.

After the first dance had finished, he became aware that one of Guy’s knights was staring at him.

The man was no longer young. His hair was still brown and his belly was still flat, but his weather-beaten face gave away his forty and more years.

Hugh felt a surge of excitement. Perhaps this was the man he was looking for.

He deliberately made eye contact with the knight, who, instead of being embarrassed at being caught staring, looked directly back. Unlike Aubrey, however, there was no hostility in this man’s gaze.

“Why is Alan fitzRobert staring at you, Sir Hugh?” Cecily asked.

A muscle twitched along Hugh’s jaw. This girl was proving to be a definite nuisance.

“I don’t know,” he replied calmly.

“It’s probably because of your eyes. Did you notice that you have the same color eyes as Lord Guy?”

“I noticed,” Hugh said.

Her azure gaze was blatantly curious. “Why is that, do you think?”

“I have no idea.”

She pouted.

Hugh wanted to go and talk to Alan, but Cecily was sticking to him like a leech.

“Perhaps I have met this Alan before and I don’t recall him,” he said. “If you will excuse me, Lady Cecily, I will go and speak to him.”

“Oh, I’ll come with you,” she said gaily.

Hugh had had enough. With a mental apology to Adela, he said, “Thank you, but I prefer to go alone.”

Color flushed into her ivory skin. He noted with perfect objectivity that she was a very pretty girl.

“You are discourteous, sir,” she said stiffly.

“I beg your pardon,” Hugh said.

He bowed and turned away, leaving her standing by herself against the wall.

When he saw Hugh crossing the floor in his direction, the knight named Alan jerked his head slightly in the direction of the door, then turned and left the hall.

Hugh followed.

The knight was waiting for him on the landing outside. “Come downstairs to the guardroom with me,” he commanded.

“All right.”

The landing was lit by a flambeau stuck into an iron holder on the wall. Alan lit a torch from the flambeau, held it aloft, and led the way down the stairs to the floor below, where the guardroom was located.

The vast room was deserted, as all of the knights were upstairs at the dancing. The flickering light from the torch allowed Hugh to see the array of swords and shields that hung upon the bare stone walls. Several trestle tables containing pieces of harness and armor were scattered about the floor. A wooden bench upon which straw mattresses and blankets had been set ran around the entire room. Trunks containing the clothes and belongings of each knight were stored under the bench.

Chippenham was large enough to have a separate room for the knights to sleep in.

Alan held his torch so that its light fell directly on Hugh’s face.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Hugh stood lance straight under that burning gaze. “I am Hugh de Leon, the son of Roger and Isabel,” he replied steadily.

The knight’s breath hissed through his teeth. “I thought so.”

He swung around and took the torch to one of the tables, lit the candle that was on it, then brought the torch back out to the landing, where he thrust it into an empty iron holder. Then he came back into the guardroom.

His eyes searched Hugh’s face. Even in the dimness, Hugh could see a muscle twitch in his cheek.

“Where have you been for all these years?”

Hugh answered him honestly, giving a brief summary of what had happened to him since he was taken from Chippenham.

Still speaking with dogged steadiness, he told Alan about his memory loss.

“I have never heard of such a thing,” the knight said.

The single candle lit only the part of the room in which they were standing. Everything else was in deep shadow.

Hugh was white about the mouth. “Nevertheless, it is true.”

The knight took a step closer. “Why in the name of God have you come here? Surely you must see how dangerous it is! Your very existence is a direct threat to Guy’s position.”

Hugh held the man’s eyes with his own. “I have come because I can no longer live with only half a life,” he said. “I need to find out who I really am. I came here to try to find someone who might help me do this.” His whole being was intent upon the lean man standing in front of him, backlit by candlelight. “Lady Cecily told me your name was Alan fitzRobert. You were one of my father’s knights, were you not?”

For a long moment, Alan did not reply. Then he admitted, “Aye, I was.”

“And you switched your allegiance to Guy after my father was killed?”

Hugh had tried to keep his voice dispassionate, but something of what he was feeling must have seeped through, because the knight’s lips tightened. He said, “Guy offered me a place and I knew nothing against him, so I took it.”

The smoke from the torch on the landing drifted in the door and assailed Hugh’s nostrils. His heartbeat accelerated as he said the words he had come to Chippenham to say.

“I have come here for one other reason, Alan. I have come to find out who murdered my father.”

The older knight suddenly looked very weary. “I was afraid of that,” he said.

“Why should you be afraid?” Hugh demanded. “Because you are Guy’s man?”

Alan’s voice sounded as weary as he looked. “Guy did not murder your father, Hugh. He was killed by one of his own knights.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hugh said fiercely. “No simple knight would have reason to kill an earl-unless he was paid to do it by someone else!”

“Oh, Walter Crespin had reason, Hugh,” Alan said. “It was no mystery to any of us knights why Walter would want to kill Earl Roger.”

Hugh had learned long ago how to guard his face, but the shock of this reply showed in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he said at last. “I need to know.”

The knight shook his head in denial. “Why not leave well enough alone, boy? You have made a good life for yourself…”

“No.” All the force of Hugh’s formidable will was trained on the man facing him. “Tell me.”

Once more Alan’s eyes traced Hugh’s face. “You look so much like your mother,” he said, seemingly at random.

Hugh felt as if a hand was closing around his chest, cutting off his breathing. “Does my father’s death have something to do with my mother?”

Alan took a step backwards.

Hugh followed him. For the third time he said, “Tell me.”

“Why don’t you ask these questions of the Lady Isabel?”

The knight had backed up to the point where his legs were pressing against the bench belonging to one of the tables.

Hugh said, “I haven’t seen my…I haven’t seen Isabel. I can’t see her until I know.”

Some of the anguish Hugh was trying to conceal finally got through to the knight. Silence fell as they looked at each other.

Then, “All right,” Alan said with resignation. “Perhaps it will be best for you to know. Once you learn the truth, perhaps you will be satisfied that Guy had nothing to do with your father’s murder and will leave here while you are still alive.”

Hugh was quivering all over, like a bow that has been strung too tightly. He nodded.

The knight gestured toward the table behind him. “Come and sit down, Hugh. This is not a pleasant tale I have to tell.”