No Dark Place

20

Hugh met Cristen at the breaking of fast in the hall. The two of them exchanged a single, veiled look before attending assiduously to their bread and ale.

The rain had finally stopped, although the hall was gloomy due to the lack of sunshine. Nigel asked Hugh if he would like to join the rest of the knights on the practice field that morning.

Hugh finished chewing his bread, then said, “Actually, sir, I have been thinking that I might return to Evesham.”

These words made Nigel look grim. At the moment, the king was in the Thames Valley besieging Wallingford Castle-a difficult task, as Brian fitz Count was well enough supplied to hold out against him for years. The result of Stephen’s attempt to blockade Wallingford was that the west was left wide open to the Earl of Gloucester, who had been recently joined by his sister-courtesy of Stephen.

Considering all this, Nigel thought he knew the reason for Hugh’s sudden desire to revisit Evesham. He said in a hard voice, “You are going to accept Gloucester’s offer to support your claim to the earldom, then?”

“No,” Hugh said. “I desire only to speak to Father Anselm, and he was at Evesham when last I saw him.”

He took another bite of his bread.

Nigel watched him. The terrible strained look the boy had worn all day yesterday was gone, and he was eating as if he were truly hungry.

Nigel asked cautiously, “Why do you wish to speak to the priest?”

Hugh drank some ale. “I want to see if he can corroborate a story I heard at Chippenham.”

Nigel stared at Hugh’s face. It might be more relaxed than it had been yesterday, but it was as unreadable as ever. “What story was that?” he dared to inquire.

“I would rather not say until I know that it is true,” Hugh replied pleasantly. He rinsed his fingers in the bowl of water that had been provided for that purpose.

For some reason, Nigel found himself shooting a look at his daughter. She was feeding a piece of bread to one of her dogs. Her face was as unrevealing as Hugh’s.

Nigel had a feeling that he was venturing into dangerously deep waters.

He cleared his throat. “I have been thinking, lad, that perhaps you and Guy might come to an understanding that you would recognize his right to the title if he would formally recognize you as his heir. He has no sons. after all…”

His voice petered out under the ironic look in Hugh’s gray eyes. “I thought you wished to see Guy replaced because you held him responsible for the murder of Lord Roger-and of Geoffrey as well.”

Nigel revolved his ale cup in his fingers and replied wearily, “Roger and Geoffrey are dead and nothing can bring them back. The way things have fallen out thus far, I think that it might be wisest for you to settle for what you can get, Hugh. Certainly it would be safer.”

“I have to know the truth,” Hugh said with a burst of sudden, fierce intensity. “Can’t you understand that? If it turns out that Guy had nothing to do with Roger’s or Geoffrey’s death, then perhaps I would consider the course you have just named. But first I must know the truth!”

Nigel couldn’t answer him.

Pale sunlight slanted in through the east windows of the hall. The clouds were evidently lifting.

Cristen said, “Perhaps you could send a few of the knights to Evesham with Hugh as an escort, Father.”

“I don’t need an escort,” Hugh said.

“Yes, you do,” Nigel contradicted him.

Hugh’s mouth set in a stubborn line. Before he could object farther, however, Nigel said, “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, Hugh. You must allow me to safeguard your journey.”

“Of course he will allow you to do that, Father,” Cristen said.

Silence from Hugh.

Finally he said, “Thank you, sir. You are very kind.”

Nigel sighed with relief and leaned back in his chair. “When do you wish to leave?”

“Immediately, if you don’t mind.”

“I will tell Thomas and two of the other knights to make ready,” Nigel said.

“Thank you,” Hugh said again.

Nigel pushed back his chair and stood up.

“I will go to my herb garden and get you some more of my headache potion,” Cristen said.

“I’ll come with you,” Hugh replied.

They stood inside the shelter of the herb garden shed, holding each other close.

“I wish we could get married right now,” he said fiercely.

“I know.”

He rubbed his cheek against the silky brown hair on the top of her head. “Your father’s idea may not be a bad one after all. If I could get Guy to name me as his heir, then we would be able to marry.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “First you must find out the truth you need to know. After that we’ll think about Guy.”

“All right.” His arms around her tightened. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”

She wanted to cry and fought very hard not to.

“I know,” she said again.

“I’ll talk to this priest. He will know if Alan’s story was true.”

“Hugh…what if your mother is still at Evesham?”

She felt him shiver. “Then I will see her. I can’t keep running away from her forever.”

“If Alan’s story was true, then I think she is very much to be pitied,” Cristen said.

Hugh’s shivering increased. “Aye. I suppose so.”

She tipped up her head and kissed him on his jaw. “Let me mix up that headache potion for you to take with you.”

Reluctantly, he loosened his arms. “All right.”

She went to the shelves and took down a stoppered bottle. He watched her small, competent hands as they mixed the medicine.

“What I could really use is something to keep me from getting sick to my stomach,” he said. “There’s nothing more humiliating than heaving up your guts in some stranger’s house.”

“I’ll give you a flagon of barley water as well.”

She had almost finished when they heard the sound of feet pounding down the path outside the shed. The door of the shed opened and Brian’s flushed face peered in.

“Hugh! A rider has just come from Malmesbury with news that the king is besieging the castle. His army is there right now!”

Hugh’s startled eyes flew to Cristen. The formerly prosperous little town of Malmesbury was but a few miles to the northwest of Somerford. They had buried Geoffrey in the abbey churchyard there shortly before one of Gloucester’s men, Robert fitz Hubert, had captured the castle and burned the town. The castle was still held by fitz Hubert for the empress.

“Go with Brian,” Cristen told Hugh. “I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished here.”

He flashed her a smile and was out the door.

The visitor who had brought them the news was one of the monks from the abbey. He was talking to Nigel in front of the fire in the Great Hall when Hugh came in.

Nigel signaled for Hugh to join them.

“This is Brother Justin, Hugh,” Nigel said. “Abbot Theobold sent him to inform us of what is happening in Malmesbury.”

“I thought Stephen was besieging Wallingford,” Hugh said.

“Aye, so did we all,” Brother Justin replied. He was a man of about fifty, but tall and lean and strong-looking. “Apparently he decided that Wallingford was too much for him and turned west. First he stormed and took the castle at South Cerney, which Miles of Gloucester’s son-in-law had fortified to serve as a link between Gloucester and Wallingford.” Bitterness edged the monk’s voice. “Then he turned toward Malmesbury.”

“Both South Cerney and Malmesbury castles are within the borders of Wiltshire,” Nigel said to Hugh. “Do you think that the king has attacked them in order to put Guy in his debt?”

“Aye,” Hugh returned cynically. “And I suspect that Stephen has every intention of collecting on that debt one of these days.”

Nigel turned back to Brother Justin. “Is there aught that we can do for the town, Brother?”

“Abbot Theobold was hoping that perhaps you could take in some of the townspeople until the siege is finished,” the monk replied. “Many of them have taken refuge in the abbey, but we have not the space nor the provisions to shelter everyone who is fleeing the bombardment.”

“Of course we will help,” Nigel said. “Those poor townsfolk! They had just started to rebuild Malmesbury after fitz Hubert burned it such a short time ago.”

“Thank you, Sir Nigel,” the monk said gratefully. “I will tell my abbot of your gracious offer.”

At this moment, Cristen came into the hall.

“Here is my daughter,” Nigel said, raising his hand to beckon her over. “You must allow her to offer you some refreshment, Brother, before your return journey.”

“Thank you, Sir Nigel,” the monk said again. “You are very kind.”

“Cristen, will you see to it that Brother Justin has something to eat and to drink?” Nigel said as she joined the men in front of the fire.

“Of course, Father.”

He answered the question in her eyes. “It seems that the townsfolk of Malmesbury need a refuge from the siege. Many of them have fled to the abbey, but there is not room enough there to accommodate all who have begged for shelter. I have said that we would take in some of them until the siege is lifted.”

“Of course we will,” Cristen said with warm sympathy. “What horrors those poor people have been through this last month!”

“Aye,” Brother Justin said grimly.

“Come with me, Brother,” Cristen said, and led him off in the direction of the pantry. They were trailed by the dogs.

Hugh said flatly, “It is Bristol all over again. The strategic importance of Wallingford is incalculable to the empress. It is imperative that Stephen take it. He cannot hope to reduce either Bristol or Gloucester with Wallingford sitting astride his lines of communication.”

Nigel looked unhappy. “Wallingford is a redoubtable bastion, Hugh.”

“So it is. That is why it is so valuable to the empress and why it is so vital that Stephen take it.”

“He has left a strong enough garrison behind to keep it in check,” Nigel pointed out.

“It is not enough,” Hugh said shortly.

Nigel sighed. He very much feared that Hugh was right, although he did not like to say so.

He changed the subject.

“How would you like to ride to Malmesbury with me today?” he asked.

Hugh looked instantly wary. “Why?”

The question surprised Nigel. Hugh was not usually dense. “I must go to see the king and this seems a perfect opportunity for you to meet him,” he explained.

The wary expression on Hugh’s face did not lift. “What would be the point of that, sir?”

Nigel stared at him in exasperation. “The point is for him to meet you in person, to see you for himself.” He tried an encouraging smile. “Who knows? Perhaps you will impress him so much that he will name you Earl of Wiltshire over Guy.”

Hugh snorted with disbelief.

“You cannot lose by meeting him, Hugh,” Nigel said reasonably.

Behind them some of the servants were sweeping up the old rushes from the hall floor. Others were carrying out basins and chamberpots to be emptied in the river. Most of the knights had already gone out into the courtyard.

Hugh said, “May I ask by which name you plan to introduce me to the king?”

“By your real name, of course,” Nigel said. He was starting to get angry. “Hugh de Leon.”

Hugh shook his head. “It’s not a good idea. My identity is in limbo right now. I’ve ceased to be Hugh Corbaille, but I’ve not yet established myself as Hugh de Leon. I think I had better wait until I have a name before I meet the king.”

“You have a name,” Nigel said. “You are Hugh de Leon.” He was growing more angry by the minute. “You know you are.”

“Think for a moment about what you are proposing, sir,” the twenty-one-year-old told him kindly. “The king will not thank you for introducing me to his notice. He has made a commitment to Guy and in return he has received the support of Wiltshire-which he badly needs. As far as Stephen is concerned, I am a nuisance at best. At worst, I am a threat.”

Nigel’s lips pinched together. He hated to admit it, but what the boy said made sense. Unfortunately.

“I am afraid that you are going to side with Gloucester,” he admitted.

“I’m not ready to side with anyone just yet.” Hugh’s face was somber. “I have too many personal questions that need to be answered before I can begin to think of my future in political terms.”

There was a moment’s silence before Nigel said reluctantly, “Perhaps you are right.” His voice strengthened. “However, with the king’s forces only miles away, it is folly for you think of leaving for Evesham.”

Hugh looked unconvinced.

“You have just told me that you don’t wish to meet Stephen yet,” Nigel pointed out. “If you are stopped by one of his men, you will most certainly end up doing just that.”

It was Hugh’s turn to say reluctantly, “Perhaps you are right.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear I’m right about something for a change,” Nigel grumbled.

At that, Hugh grinned. Nigel stared in surprise at the boy’s face. He thought of the remote, closed look Hugh had worn all day yesterday. He thought of his daylong silence.

What had happened to change him from that to this?

Nigel took an escort of knights and rode into Malmesbury to offer his homage to the king. Hugh and the rest of the knights went out hunting to bring in extra meat for the expected influx of refugees from the besieged town. Under Cristen’s direction, the castle servants put up tents in the outer bailey to shelter the new arrivals. The bread ovens went into full-time production. In the kitchen, the cook and his staff roasted pork, beef, mutton, and poultry on a spit, and prepared stews and soups in the great iron cauldrons that hung over the fire. The alewife and her staff began to work to replace the store of ale that would most certainly be drunk by the refugees.

When Hugh and the knights finally returned from the hunt, their pack horses laden down with the carcasses of deer and wild pigs and fowl, they found the bailey crammed with men, women, and what appeared to be hundreds of children.

“Judas,” Thomas said to Hugh. “That is a lot of mouths to feed.”

“It certainly is,” Hugh agreed. “I can see that we will be busy these next few days.”

One of the squires came running up to them. His round face was beaming. “The king is coming to spend the night!” he shouted to the knights as a group. “Sir Nigel just returned from Malmesbury with the news.”

A ripple of excitement ran through the ranks of the knights.

Hugh frowned. This was a development he had not foreseen and did not like. He took Rufus to the stable and took care of the stallion himself, as all the grooms were busy trying to make room for the king’s horses. Once Rufus was groomed and fed and watered, Hugh made his way up to the castle.

The tables had already been set up in the Great Hall. Servants were scurrying around, putting down the benches and sprinkling dried herbs through the fresh rushes on the floor. Hugh asked one of the pages who was carrying the great saltcellar that went on the high table if he knew where Cristen was.

“I think Lady Cristen is in the kitchen, my lord,” came the reply.

Hugh decided that he did not want to attempt the smoke and the confusion of the kitchen just now. He went into the solar, hoping he might find Nigel.

The solar was empty, but the door to Nigel’s bedroom was open and William came out carrying Nigel’s dagger to be polished. The squire grinned at Hugh. “Have you heard, Hugh? The king is coming to dinner and to stay the night!”

“I’ve heard,” Hugh said.

Nigel heard his voice and called out through the partially open bedroom door, “Come in, Hugh. I want to talk to you.”

For the first time, Hugh entered the bedroom that belonged to the lord of Somerford, which had once also belonged to his wife. It was a large room, with an immense bed covered with quilts, fur coverlets, and pillows. The heavy velvet curtains that enclosed the bed at night, both for privacy and for protection from drafts, were pulled back at the moment. Several large wooden chests, a chair, and two large stools with arms completed the furnishings.

Nigel was standing beside one of the chests, on top of which a rich, fur-lined robe was neatly folded. Clearly he was arraying himself in his best clothes for the occasion of the king’s visit.

Hugh said, “Perhaps I should have gone to Evesham after all.”

Nigel shook his head. “It wasn’t safe.”

Hugh cocked an eyebrow and didn’t reply.

“You can sit with the knights at dinner,” Nigel said. “There will be no reason for Stephen to notice you. I will give the king my bedroom, of course, and I will sleep in yours. You can spend the night in the hall as you did when Henry Fairfax visited.” Nigel adjusted the lace at the throat of his immaculate white shirt. “There will be no reason for the king to think you are anyone other than one of my household knights.”

“Perhaps it would be safer if I ate and spent the night in the stable,” Hugh said.

Nigel lifted the robe from the chest and smoothed his hand along the soft fur. “Aren’t you curious to see Stephen, at least?”

Hugh looked amused.

“You must be,” Nigel said irritably.

“Of course I am,” Hugh agreed. “I just do not want to be the cause of any embarrassment for you.”

“The king won’t ask for you. There is no reason for him even to know that you are here,” Nigel said. “Just stay in the midst of the knights and you will be perfectly safe.”

It was cold in the bedroom and Nigel shook out the cloak and settled it over his shoulders.

“All right,” Hugh agreed mildly.

“Stephen is an impressive man, Hugh,” Nigel said. “I think he will surprise you.”

The amused look came back to Hugh’s face. “Will he?”

William came into the room with the polished dagger ready to be thrust through its leather holder at Nigel’s belt.

“I’ll change my own clothes and get out of your way, sir,” Hugh said.

“Very well.” Nigel’s voice was gruff. “I hope to God this dinner comes off all right. I never thought I would be entertaining the king!”

Stephen arrived an hour later, accompanied by his main military commander, the Fleming, William of Ypres, and a number of lesser lieutenants. Hugh saw him for the first time when he came into the Great Hall and took his place at the high table between Nigel and Cristen.

Stephen was indeed an impressive-looking man. In his fifties, he was yet tall, fair, handsome and splendidly built. Hugh watched as he bent his leonine head toward Cristen and made some comment. She smiled in reply.

Like Nigel, Cristen had dressed in her finest garments in honor of the king’s visit. Her smoothly brushed hair was topped by a golden circlet from which fell a gauzy veil. She was wearing a fur-lined mantle over her deep red tunic.

Hugh thought she was the loveliest thing he had seen in all his life.

“The king looks younger than I thought he would,” Thomas said. Hugh was sitting with a group of the younger knights in the middle of the hall.

“He seems very amiable,” Lionel commented.

Hugh took a sip of his wine and said nothing.

“This should be a feast to remember,” one of the other knights confided. “They were cooking in the kitchen all morning long.”

It was a feast indeed. Cristen and her staff did Somerford proud, serving up a meal that was every bit the equal of the meals Hugh had eaten at the earl’s castle of Chippenham.

He ate hungrily. It was amazing the way his appetite had come back after last night. Even the mushroom stuffing, which he did not usually like, tasted good to him.

The main part of the meal was over and the servants were in the process of serving the sweetmeats when one of the pages who were waiting on the high table came to tell Hugh that the king desired to meet him.

Hugh dropped his eyes to mask the flash of anger that shot through him.

I thought I could trust Nigel not to do this!

His face expressionless, he made his way around the tables and approached the high table. Stopping in front of Stephen, he went down on his knee.

“Your Grace,” he heard Nigel saying, “this is the young man you asked about.”

Hugh shot a quick look at Nigel’s face and realized that this introduction was Stephen’s doing, not his.

“You may rise,” Stephen said.

Hugh stood and looked at the king, who was seated far above him.

Stephen regarded him across a tray of sweets. “So,” he said, “you are he who claims to be the son of Roger de Leon.”

He sounded merely interested.

“Aye, Your Grace,” Hugh said.

The king leaned back in his chair as if he were perfectly relaxed. “Sir Nigel has told me that you were raised by my faithful servant, Ralf Corbaille, Sheriff of Lincoln.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Hugh said again.

Stephen’s blue eyes scanned Hugh’s face. “And I am to understand that for all the years that you lived with the sheriff, you did not know who you really were?”

“That is correct, Your Grace.”

Hugh was doing his best to disguise the anger he felt at this forced meeting, but from the sudden frown on Stephen’s face he was afraid he had not been completely successful.

Then Stephen asked the one question that Hugh did not want to answer: “And where does your allegiance lie, Hugh? With your anointed king or with the rebel, Gloucester?”

“Are you asking that question of Hugh Corbaille or of Hugh de Leon, Your Grace?” Hugh replied steadily.

Stephen’s gaze sharpened. He might be an indecisive man, but Hugh could see that he was not stupid.

“I am asking both of you,” the king said.

Hugh clasped his hands lightly behind his back. “Hugh Corbaille is the owner of three small manors who owes his feudal duty to the king, Your Grace,” he said. “At the moment, Hugh de Leon owns nothing except his sword.”

Stephen’s graying golden brows drew together. “If you are indeed Hugh de Leon, your mother’s brother is one of Gloucester’s chief supporters,” he said grimly.

“And my father’s brother is one of yours,” Hugh returned.

“Let me remind you of this, Hugh whoever-you-are,” Stephen said. “All of England’s earls hold their honors solely at the will of the king. And I have named Lord Guy to be Earl of Wiltshire.”

Hugh bowed his head. “I perfectly understand, Your Grace,” he said softly.

Stephen’s frown deepened. This interview was not going the way that he had planned. This boy, with his de Leon eyes, was perfectly courteous, perfectly respectful, but…

Stephen waved his hand in royal dismissal. “You may return to your supper, Hugh Corbaille.”

He emphasized the last name, the name that was pledged to him.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Hugh knelt once more, then backed away from the high table. Before he turned to make his way back to his own table he shot a quick look at Cristen.

She was looking very grave.

He tried to look reassuring.

Then he had to turn away and go back to the knights.