Fires of Winter (35 page)

I do not know what greeting Melusine had, but Geoffrey of Glympton, the king's chamberlain, was not well pleased to see me, growling that he did not know if another herring could be packed into the barrel. All he could offer was a pallet in the king's chamber. There was no room for my men. Westminster was filled to bursting; every lord in the land seemed to have come to this Christmas court. Although this spelled discomfort for me, I was glad of it. The great attendance must mean that rebellion was at an end and all acknowledged the king's power.

Stephen himself was more welcoming, and he only grinned at his chamberlain's complaints. In high good humor, he embraced me in a huge bear hug and smiled at me when I said I had a confession to make. He told me he had no time then to let me ease my conscience, but bade me with a laugh to attend him after the evening meal and then dismissed me to find lodging for my men. I ate no dinner that day. It took me all the forenoon to accomplish what should not have taken an hour's time. Each page I sent with a message to let Melusine know I must lodge with the king never returned, and I had to assume the boys had been captured by a more important person and sent on a different errand. I had to accompany my men to see that my chest was placed in the king's apartment, and Melusine's was three times sent to the wrong place by officious, ignorant servants before Edna recognized my men and directed them.

I almost fell on her neck and kissed her when I saw her coming back with the men. Although I had had the forethought to tell them to bring her with them, I had almost given up hope that they would find her and had begun to fear that I would have to ask admittance to the queen's chamber to explain matters to Melusine and get her good clothing to her. I did not want to take the chance of drawing the queen's attention to me though; I was sure if I did, Maud would seize on me and ask questions I did not wish to answer until after I had spoken to the king. Now Edna could tell Melusine to seek lodging with the queen; there was another problem Edna could solve for me also. She understood the ways of the city, and if I sent her out with Fechin to find lodging and stabling, she would not permit him to be cheated.

Edna listened and nodded, asked a question or two about where I would prefer the men to be placed and what I was willing to pay and whether area or cost was most important, then said she would find something. I thanked her and gave her a silver penny, and to my surprise she laughed and said she would keep it because she had been bred up to take money from men but that she had been paid and overpaid already for any service she could do for me or for Lady Melusine. And I really looked at her and saw that she spoke the truth, for she was a different woman, carrying herself with pride and without fear. I was glad I had not asked Edna to spy on Melusine in Ulle. The girl had a place in the world now; it would have been a shame to stain her loyalty.

A glance at the sky told me it was both too late and too early to ask for food, dinner being long over and the evening meal not yet started. The nearest cookshop was too far, so I turned toward the kitchen sheds, where I hoped to be able to wheedle some bread and cold meat to fill my hollow belly, when my arm was seized in a powerful grip.

“Bruno! Where the devil have you been these two weeks?”

I bowed, masking my surprise as well as I could when my eyes met the pale blue gaze of Ranulf de Gernon, earl of Chester. “I was lately married, my lord,” I said, “to Lady Melusine of Ulle, and the king gave me leave to make my wife known to my half sister, Lady Audris of Jernaeve.”

This was the first time in my life that I had openly named my relationship to Audris, and my statement of Melusine's full name was also deliberate. Ranulf of Chester had a claim to Cumbria, which his father had held and surrendered to King Henry for the right to inherit the earldom of Chester. If Lord Ranulf ever won his claim, he might be overlord of Cumbria, and I wanted to remind him that I had a deep interest in the north.

A moment after I spoke, I regretted it. Chester had opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it abruptly, a gleam of interest making his eyes even paler. His brow creased in thought, then he nodded and said, “Ulle? I know that name, I am sure. That is a place not far from Carlisle. So your new wife is from Cumbria?”

“Yes, my lord, but she was disseised because her father was a rebel, and—and we have no further interest in Cumbria.”

Chester smiled broadly and I had all I could do to keep my rage at my own stupidity from showing. In trying to recoup one blunder, I had made one much worse; I had betrayed by denying it my desire for Ulle. And Chester was a man who understood such desires—all too well.

Pretending I did not understand his broad smile, I asked, “Is there some way I can serve you, my lord?”

My heart sank as the words echoed in my ears. It was only a formal question, one I had asked many lords many times during my service to King Stephen, but in conjunction with exposing my desire for Melusine's lands, it rang with implications I had not intended. Chester would doubtless interpret that question as a hint, for he was just the man to dangle Ulle as a bait, asking for a trifling service, a trifling favor, and implying that when he had regained his father's lost power over Cumbria, he would remember those services and favors.

“Yes, you can,” he replied, smiling again. “You can tell the king that I am leaving tomorrow, but I would be glad of a word with him in private if he can spare the time tonight.”

“I am not summoned to service until after the evening meal,” I said, keeping my voice flat and my face blank. “If you need someone to speak earlier, you will have to seek another messenger, my lord.”

“No, no. If I desired to see the king in the middle of a rush of other business, I could have presented myself now. I said tonight. I wish to find Stephen at leisure.”

“Very well, my lord,” I said.

He clapped me familiarly on the shoulder, as a man might do in thanking his own upper servant, and nodded and turned away, leaving me much shaken. There was no other answer I could have made to his request because I knew that the king wished to conciliate the earl of Chester. He was too powerful to offend, and for my master's sake, I must do as he asked—which gave the impression that I did wish to serve him. Yet Chester was the last man I would wish to see as overlord in Cumbria. I did not trust him; I could not decide whether he was greedy and power-hungry, or whether he was simply obsessed with reestablishing his right to Cumbria. But whichever was true, I was certain that no oath of fealty would override that desire, and his loyalty would go with the prize he sought. For me—if I should be enfeoffed with Ulle—an overload who changed sides from Stephen to Matilda would be a disaster.

Three months away from court and I seemed to have forgotten all I had learned in two years! I was disgusted with myself; I had not spoken with such thoughtlessness and naivety even in the beginning of my service. Between lack of food and anxiety, my stomach was flapping against my backbone, which reminded me that I would be an unknown, nameless face in the cookshop and all too well known almost anywhere in Westminster. Without another thought about the long walk, I went out through the nearest gate and set out along the river.

It was almost dark when I returned, my stomach very full of tasty food and my heart much calmer than when I set out. It was true that I should have been more careful about what I said, but doing what I knew the king would want me to do did not commit me to Chester's service, no matter what the earl thought. So it was in good spirits that I came to stand behind the king's chair, placing myself so that he would see me as soon as he rose and turned away from the table. His eyes lit when they fell on me and his smile warmed me. I spoke only the truth when I bowed and said, “I am very glad to return to your service, sire.”

“And I to have you back.” He shook his finger at me. “I thought you might have forgotten me, you were away so long.”

“Only because I spent near six weeks lifting a cart out of one mudhole after another,” I said ruefully. “Our journey took much longer than I expected.” I felt rather than saw someone approaching to get Stephen's attention and I added quickly, “You have not forgotten that I have a confession to make, my lord. I meant no ill and no ill came of what I did, but I would not wish you to hear of it from another man.”

Stephen looked surprised, not as if he had forgotten what I had said earlier but as if he had thought it was a jest. But when he glanced at the gentleman sidling around to block his way to the door of his closet, he shook his head and said, “I am sorry Pembroke, but I have promised to play confessor to Bruno—and hear his news also.” And he made his way firmly to the door and through it, drawing me, and me alone, in with him.

Inside, he laughed. “Did you say that to save me from Pembroke?” he asked. “Or have you really committed some crime against me?”

I grinned back. “You are very kind to make a mousehole out of Pembroke's greediness for me to escape into, but I dare not accept that escape. Twice I have nerved myself to confess. I will never manage a third time.” I was speaking lightly, but I saw a flicker of doubt in the king's eyes, and I hurried to put that doubt to rest. “I have not committed a crime, my lord, only yielded to my wife's desire to see her old home and took her to spend a week in Ulle.”

“And?” Stephen urged, seeming to expect some unpleasant news.

“There is no ‘and,' my lord. That is all I had to confess. I wanted you to know we went there. Melusine has a great love of the country, and it is very beautiful despite being poor. I saw no signs of disaffection in the people, but we did not visit any of the local gentlemen. I would say the common folk care for nothing but their small farms and fishing boats.”

The king raised his brows. “You needed total privacy to tell me this?”

I laughed. “No, my lord, although I was eager that you should know. What I wished you to hear in private was that the earl of Chester stopped me in the courtyard and bade me tell you that he wished to leave tomorrow but would be grateful if you would spare him a few minutes alone tonight.” The anger I saw in the tightening of the king's lips made me add, “If you do not wish to see him, I can go to him in the morning and say I found no time to give you his message.”

“He has not asked me for leave to go,” Stephen said.

I remembered that Chester had said he
was
leaving. I had assumed that he already had the king's permission, but apparently he did not feel he needed it. Heat rose in my face as I flushed with anger at the way Chester had used me to deliver a subtle insult to my master.

“Let me bring him a message forbidding his leaving,” I snarled, “and challenge him to meet me man to man if he will not obey.”

Stephen met my eyes, his own bright with anger and his jaw set, but after a moment, he shook his head. “It is too dangerous. I doubt if he would accept challenge, and anyway, I would have to forbid the meeting. No one would believe I did not know of it, and it is the king's business to keep the peace when he holds court. Another thing, Bruno, I do not know why Chester came to court at all. He has not joined the council of barons to do any business; he has not asked me for any favors—aside from his usual complaint of how Cumbria was reft from his father unjustly. So why did he come?”

“To see if the court was thin after the troubles in the summer to decide whether a new and greater rebellion was brewing?” I suggested furiously.

But my sneering remark had an odd effect on Stephen. The anger faded from his face, and then I realized I must have called to his mind the crowded court, the many nobles who now fawned on him seeking favor and recognition. “If he hoped to see me weak, he has had a round answer,” the king said with smug satisfaction. “No, I will not deny him. Go bring him to me, Bruno. Let us see what he desires.”

I was still angry, but I realized that by accident—and partly against my will—I had done the right thing in calming the king. The trouble was that Stephen was virtually helpless against so great and powerful a noble. He could not seize him and imprison him here in Westminster even for open defiance. During a holding of court, strict custom decreed that all who came had safe conduct to depart after the king did so or earlier by permission. It was a good custom; without it, few men would have found the courage to bring a complaint to the king or answer a summons to decide even a just cause. And for minor knights or barons the custom of safe conduct was a protection without any license for defiance or contumely. A minor gentleman could be caught and punished any time after the holding of court was over, but once a great lord like Chester was back on his own lands, he was too strong to be attacked by the king's mercenaries. It would be necessary to summon a baronial army to fight the earl of Chester, which would most likely revive the rebellion that Stephen had just seemingly put down.

It soothed me somewhat to find Chester near at hand and watching the door of Stephen's private closet out of the corner of his eye. I had almost suspected that his only purpose in stopping me was to have me pass on the insult of his leaving without permission. I was wrong about that it seemed. Chester did have some request to make of Stephen. Yet he did not seem pleased when I nodded at him and said, “The king will see you now, my lord.” But that might have been because I used the same phrasing to him that I would have used to any minor nobleman, or perhaps my tone was not all it should have been.

I felt even better when, as Chester entered, Stephen, who had seated himself beside the fire while I went out to fetch the earl, looked up and said, “You desire permission to leave our court? You have it.”

I had not expected so perfect a response, for the king was not particularly apt at quick responses, and I had to swallow hard to hold back a little crow of laughter. The blow went home too; I could not see Chester's face, but I saw the way his back stiffened and the slight check in his stride. By the time I closed the door and came to stand beside the king's chair, however, Chester had bowed slightly and come erect again, wearing a faint smile. He shook his head—to indicate he had not come to ask permission to leave? If so, he was not ready for open challenge of the king's authority because he said nothing about that.