Georgette Heyer (26 page)

How he was sent for by the King

Early in April the King spoke again to Alan of Simon. He called him up to his closet one evening, and smiled upon him, holding up a bulky packet of parchment sheets.

‘Come hither, my Poet. These came today from my brother of Gloucester. Simon is alive and well.’

‘God be praised!’ Alan said devoutly. ‘What says his Grace, sire?’

‘He says much,’ Henry answered. ‘On the first day of the month he came to Cherbourg, and sat down before it. Listen! “But so well fortified and provisioned is the town that assault were folly. It but remains for me to lay siege to it, with your lordship’s gracious leave, that in time I may starve it into submission. As I judge this task will prove long and arduous, I think not to enter Cherbourg until the summer, if I do enter it then. Your Majesty’s well-beloved, Lord Simon of Beauvallet, whom I did send to aid Sir John Robsart in the taking of Carentan and St Sauveur-le-Vicomte, did join me three days since with the news that the aforesaid towns have yielded to your Majesty. Beauvallet doth render good account of himself, and out of his whole force hath lost but seven men, three having died of sickness. I do beseech you, my dread Sovereign lord and brother, if you have need of Beauvallet, to send for him, for I have ample force, Huntingdon having come also to join me, from Coutances, which town did surrender to your puissant Majesty the Sixteenth day of March.”’ Henry laid the parchment down. ‘This is good news, Alan.’

‘Very good, sir, save that Cherbourg is so strong.’

‘Gloucester will reduce it. Mine answer to his dispatch is here.’ He touched a parchment-sheet. ‘I have sent to command Simon to join me, with his own men.’

Alan bowed.

‘What hath your lordship for him then, sir?’

Henry seated himself at the table.

‘I have thought deeply on it, my Poet, and at last I have seen how I may serve both mine own ends and his. I will make Simon warden of this land.’

Alan’s eyes widened.

‘Sire!’

‘Thou dost know that I have a Chancery in the making, Alan. Morgan is to hold the seal of the Duchy, Luttrell is to be Seneschal. But at the head of the military government I will have Simon, for he is all a soldier, and his grip on all matters military is of iron. Thus shall he remain in Normandy. Art thou satisfied?’

Alan knelt gracefully, and kissed the King’s hand.

‘Your Majesty is the kindest man alive,’ he said. ‘It is no wonder that your very name is beloved.’

Henry pulled him up.

‘Have done!’ he said. ‘Malvallet and you shall be under Simon. Thus ye shall not be separated, and thus shall I know that my warden hath under him two men who will serve him faithfully, obeying his least command. I may march then upon Rouen with a quiet mind. Thank me not. If it please you, it doth also please me, save that I must lose my three Graces for a while.’

‘I cannot thank you, sir,’ Alan said fervently. ‘No words of mine could express what I do feel.’

Henry laughed.

‘I am glad of it,’ he said, and waved him away.

Ten days later Simon rode into Bayeux, the men of Beauvallet and some of Montlice behind him. As he came through the streets he was lustily cheered, and when he raised his hand in stiff salute, the cheers redoubled, and flowers were flung down before him, and caps tossed high in the air. So he came to Henry’s quarters, and straightway went to where Alan lodged.

Alan sprang up as he entered, and clasped his hands for a long minute.

‘My Simon!’

Simon smiled, and his fingers gripped Alan’s. Then he released the slim hands in his.

‘All is well with thee?’

‘Very well. And with thee?’ Alan asked affectionately.

‘Gloucester carried all before him. Ye did hear that St Lo fell to Hungerford?’

‘Ay. Gloucester sent word. Domfront holds firm against Warwick still.’

‘So I thought. But Domfront will fall before Cherbourg hath lost one stone from its walls. What doth the King want of me?’

‘He told thee not?’

‘Nay. His dispatch was as short as he says mine are wont to be.’ Simon drew it from the leathern pouch at his belt, smiling. ‘“To our well-beloved servant, Simon of Beauvallet: It is our pleasure that you make all haste to join us here in our town of Bayeux, bringing with you the men of Beauvallet and Montlice. Henry R.” There is more, written on the back. “And thus have I my revenge on thee, my Soldier. Have I stirred thy curiosity?”’

Alan laughed.

‘Well? Hath he done so?’

Simon shrugged.

‘I suppose I am to join Clarence. All ways are one to me. Alan, what ails the troops? As I rode hither they did cheer me as though I had accomplished some great emprise. What means it?’

‘The King will tell thee,’ Alan answered. ‘Hast thou had word from Geoffrey?’

‘Ay. Belrémy is at peace. The – the Lady Margaret did banish her cousin for seeking to slay me.’ His eyes gleamed suddenly.

‘So I did hear. What does that betoken, think you?’

Simon did not answer.

‘The Lady Margaret’s hate is not so strong, perchance,’ Alan said gently.

‘She hates me not. I’ll go change my raiment before I see the King.’ He went out heavily.

Just before supper a page came to him, to command his attendance on the King. He went at once, and entering the audience chamber, found Henry seated on a dais, with his Council about him.

Simon paused on the threshold, and shot a quick look round. Then he went forward, and bowed low to Henry.

‘Your lordship sent for me, sir?’

‘Ay.’ Henry held out his hand. ‘I have work for thee, Simon.’

Simon kissed his hand and released it.

‘That is good news, sire.’

‘Arduous work, my Soldier,’ Henry warned him.

‘I desire naught better, sir.’

‘Give me the order, Philip,’ Henry said to Philip Morgan, standing beside him.

Morgan placed a long scroll in his hand, which Henry gave to Simon.

‘Thou wert appointed to this office three days since, Simon, by vote of Council and my will.’

Simon looked round again, slightly frowning. Then he bent his head over the parchment, and began to read. In grandiose terms it gave him to understand that it was the King’s most gracious command that he be appointed Lieutenant and Warden of the Lands and Marches of Normandy,
[1]
to maintain the peace in the Duchy, and to have control over the troops that should be left therein, while the King went on to Rouen. Further, that it was the King’s most gracious will that he should have under him the following knights: A list of names met Simon’s eye, the first two of which were Sir Geoffrey of Malvallet and Sir Alan of Montlice. There was much more besides, and at the bottom of the scroll was Henry’s seal and signature with the signatures of each one of his Council beneath.

Simon read on to the end. Then he looked up, straight into Henry’s eyes. A long breath he drew, and there was a wondering look on his face.

‘Is this – indeed your Majesty’s pleasure?’ he asked quietly.

Henry bowed his head.

‘Sir –’ Simon stopped, at a loss for words. ‘I – think I have done little to deserve this great honour.’

A low murmur of dissent came from the Council. Henry nodded towards Luttrell, who rose. One by one the Council filed out, so that Simon was left alone with the King.

‘Thou canst not refuse the task,’ Henry said, and came down from the dais. ‘It is sealed and done. A man must I leave behind me, so I leave thee.’

‘Refuse!’ Simon laughed shortly. ‘I cannot tell you, sir, what this means to me. If you do indeed think me worthy of this command, I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

Henry laid a hand on his arm.

‘Thank me not. I serve myself. One thing I would suggest to thee.’

‘What is it, sir?’

‘That ye dispose your lieutenants how ye will, but that you yourself make some central spot your headquarters. Belrémy seems a right good town, and one that is large and of important standing. Get thee to it, my Soldier.’

Simon looked sharply round at him, and his eyes narrowed.

‘This is Alan’s doing,’ he said.

Henry shook his head.

‘Nay, nay, fear not that I seek to favour thee, thou proud lord! It is my will. Further it is my will that ye espouse the Lady Margaret with all speed. Simon, thou rogue! Never was I more amazed than when I heard that love had come to thee! Love for the tigress!’

‘Nay, sire!’ Simon answered forcefully. ‘She is no tigress, but a brave lady!’

‘An Amazon!’

‘Nay, a babe, for all her years and stateliness.’

Henry laughed at him.

‘When I return from Rouen, I will see thy babe. Umfraville called her not that.’

‘He knew her not,’ Simon said, and smiled to himself.

Henry grasped his hand.

‘God grant thee happiness, Simon. May thy lady be kind and gentle.’

Again Simon laughed.

‘Gentle she is not, sire, kind I will make her. She is wilful and fierce, and swift with her dagger. It is a fighting maid that I will take to wife, not easily won. I would not have it otherwise.’

‘Thou must ever choose the hardest task,’ Henry said in amusement. ‘As soon as may be thou shalt go to Belrémy, but there is work yet to be done. May shall see thee in thy lady’s arms. Wilt thou write to Geoffrey?’

‘Nay, sir. I will take them by surprise, so that my lady shall have no time to remember her stubborn pride. And, as your lordship doth know, mine is no able pen.’

Henry’s eyes twinkled.

‘I have served thee out for thy curt dispatches, Simon.’

‘I was not curious at all, sir,’ Simon replied. ‘I thought your dispatch to me long enough. It told me that ye had need of me. What more should I wish to know?’

‘God’s my life! Are ye turned courtier?’ Henry exclaimed.

‘Nay, I but spoke the truth,’ Simon said, rather surprised.

How he came to his own

The Lady Margaret stood by the sundial in her pleasaunce, gazing wistfully down at it. It was May now, and all about her flowers bloomed, while the trees in the orchard, beyond the hedge, were laden with blossom. The sun shone warmly down upon the garden, and the birds sang, but the Lady Margaret was sad.

For a long time she stood motionless, thinking of one day in February when she had come running to this spot to warn Simon of danger. And as she thought, she smiled a little, drearily, and brushed her hand across her eyes. No word had come from him since March, and although Geoffrey made light of it, saying that Simon would never write unless he were forced to do so, Margaret felt the silence ominous, and feared she knew not what.

Today she was strangely nervous, jumping at every sound, as though she expected something to happen. Even now she lifted her head, listening, for it seemed to her that far away in the town some excitement was on hand. The faint noise died, but it came again presently, and she heard the echo of Fulk’s great voice, wafted to her by the gentle breeze. A deep breath she drew, and stood very still, hands clenched at her sides until the knuckles gleamed. She looked towards the entrance to the pleasaunce, lips slightly parted, and in her eyes were dread and hope.

And at length a soft tread reached her straining ears, and her knees seemed suddenly to shake. Round the bend in the alley that led to the pleasaunce, Simon came, and paused some few yards from her, looking at her from under his jutting brow.

The Lady Margaret stood very still; only her bosom rose and fell quickly, and her eyelids flickered. She gazed in dumb longing at the fair giant before her, but she could not speak.

Simon’s deep voice reached her, and she quivered with a kind of fearful joy.

‘Willingly shalt thou come to me, and willingly give thy heart,’ he said, and held out his arms.

The Lady Margaret took a faltering step forward, impelled by some invincible force. Her hands flew out, trembling.

‘Milor’!’ she whispered. ‘Thou hast – come back!’

‘Ay, I have come as I swore I would. To lead thee to the altar.’

A sob broke from her, but it was a glad sob. She came to him, swiftly, stumblingly, her eyes full of tears.

‘My heart – was thine – long since!’ she said brokenly. ‘Willingly – do I – come!’

Then she was caught in a great embrace, swept off her feet, and crushed against Simon’s breast. She gripped the folds of his tunic with her slender hands, face upturned, half-crying and half-laughing.

‘Thou art – with me again! Ah, Simon, Simon, I knew not what to think! I feared – Simon, milor’!’

His arms tightened ruthlessly about her. For one moment he looked down into her brimming eyes, his own ablaze with some new-born passion, then he bent and kissed her fiercely, on her eager mouth. And now, at last, the Lady Margaret returned his kisses, her pride dead, and all her fighting instincts flown.

So for a while they stayed thus, locked in each other’s arms, till the grip about Margaret’s shoulders slackened, and she was set upon her feet, breathless and quivering.

‘My – queen!’ Simon said huskily, and knelt suddenly to kiss the hem of her gown.

The Lady Margaret looked down at him, and in her face was all the wonder of love. Gently she laid a hand on the bent head, and put her other into his, drawing him to his feet.

‘Simon, oh, milor’, kneel not to me! It is I who am ’neath your heel!’ She sank against his shoulder, and laughed unsteadily. ‘I swore vengeance on thee! Undying vengeance!’ she whispered. ‘I said that I would make thee rue the day thou didst cross my path. Ah, Simon, Simon!’

His arms were round her once again, holding her close.

‘Mayhap I shall live to rue that day,’ he said, and his rare humour peeped out. ‘Undying thy vengeance shall be, and on our marriage-day it will be complete.’

‘Oh, ungallant!’ she cried, and put up her hand to touch his lean cheek. ‘Thou most cruel of lovers! Was – was ever a maid so harshly wooed?’

‘Was ever a maid so hardly won?’ he retorted, and carried her hand to his lips. ‘Thou tigress! Wilt thou stab me, I wonder, if ever I gainsay thee?’

‘Never again!’ she said softly. ‘I could not do it – that day in January, though I hated thee then. How should I stab thee now that my hate has turned to love? I would follow thee barefoot across the world!’

‘Nay, for if I walked across the world, thou wouldst lie in mine arms, Margot. Never again shalt thou flee from me.’

‘Thy strong arms … !’ she murmured. ‘Even as thou didst bear me from Raoul’s palace. Stern, merciless conqueror! Simon,
mon maître et mon seigneur
!’

It was a long time before they left the pleasaunce, and then they went slowly, Simon’s arm about his lady’s waist, her head resting back against his shoulder, and her hand in his.

‘I never thought to be so happy!’ she sighed. ‘I never dreamed that I would bend to your will!’

‘I must have loved thee from the moment I set eyes on thee,’ Simon answered.

‘What! Was it love then, that made thee mar my skin?’ she pressed his hand to the scar on her breast.

‘I know not. Thou wert a statue made of ice.’

‘An Amazon thou didst call me! But oh, thy sword hurt!’

He bent to kiss the scar.

‘An Amazon thou wert, who flinched not nor cried out. How could I have treated thee so?’

‘Ah, no, I am glad! I said that for as long as the scar remained I would remember thy cruelty, and so I will, and with it mine own attempted treachery. Simon, that shame will never die!’

‘My shame is greater, Margot, for I threatened a woman, a child.’

‘No child am I, milor’. Just – just an Amazon.’

He laughed down into her pleading eyes.

‘That rankles still, my queen. I would not have thee aught but that. I did tell my King that the lady I love is a tigress, beautiful beyond words, swift with her dagger, proud and indomitable to her foes, but with a great heart, and a brave spirit.’

Margaret blushed.

‘Nay. I am not so fine. I have failed in all that I meant to do, and only succeeded in one thing. And that I did not mean to do. I stole what men thought was not there to steal. Thy cold heart,
mon seigneur.
I swore to bring an army about your ears, and behold, I was foresworn. I tried to keep my hatred for thee alive, but it withered. See how thou hast humbled me!’

Simon drew her closer.

‘One mistake didst thou make, dear heart. Thou didst set thy will against mine, for I had sworn to vanquish and to wed thee.’

‘How vain my fight hath been!’ she sighed. ‘In everything was I beaten, till thou hadst me at thy feet. And even then I would not realise, though Jeanne knew, and my Lord Fulk roared at me for a pert, wilful baggage. A silly maid, he called me, and bade me know that Simon of Beauvallet was not one to be worsted by an obstinate woman.’

Simon smiled.

‘If my lord hath called thee names, then doth he love thee indeed.’

‘Oh, he hath not a good word to say for me, but bellows at me until I tell him that he is wrongly named, and should be the Bull, not the Lion. There is only one Lion.’ She drew his hand to her cheek. ‘Thy King will let thee stay with me? Thou wilt not go forth again?’

‘My King hath made me lieutenant of the troops he leaves in Normandy, Margot. Thou wilt never be rid of me again, but when he returns from his campaign I will show him a gentle, docile English wife.’

‘Nay, ’tis I who will show him a tamed husband. Thou shalt be Count of Belrémy, and rule my land – thy land now.’

‘And when I take thee to England thou shalt be the Lady Baroness of Beauvallet, for all I have is thine.’

They had come now to the castle, and went into the great hall, hand in hand. Geoffrey and Jeanne were there, waiting for Simon to bring his lady in, and Fulk was standing by Alan, one arm flung around his son’s shoulders. He and Jeanne came forward, Jeanne running to her friend, Fulk waving his stick at Simon.

‘So there thou art!’ he roared. ‘First it is Geoffrey and his Jeanne, kissing and fondling until I am made sick by the sight of it, and now thee, thou good-for-naught, and Margaret, the graceless lass! Hadst thou no more sense than to thrust thy head into the halter, thou silly lad? Let me get hold on thy hand, I say!’ He wrung it vigorously, his little blue eyes twinkling ferociously. ‘Always thou must conquer! I could weep when I think how none hath ever withstood thee! Small wonder is it that thou art a conceited coxcomb. Margot, thou rogue, come to me!’ He embraced her noisily, shaking her to and fro. ‘What did I tell thee? Did I not say that my lion-cub would master thee? I warrant he will tame thy hot blood, saucy maid!’ He rounded on Simon again, smiting him fondly on the shoulder. ‘Now I do say that if she sticks the dagger into thee, it will be but thy just deserts, lad! We will see what a slip of a girl may do to thee! Oh, thou art well-matched! A pair of fools, by my troth!’

‘Shouting and blustering again!’ Margaret said severely. ‘Thy gout will plague thee more than ever, and that will be
thy
just deserts!’

Fulk laughed delightedly, never so pleased as when Margaret chided him.

‘Oh, she will school thee, Simon! Never was there so determined a lass! God’s Body, I never thought to get me a daughter so much after mine own heart!’

Margaret pushed him into a chair, dropping a kiss upon his brow.

‘A Bull and a Lion,’ she said. ‘What will my life be betwixt you? What with thy passions and my lord’s obstinacy – oh, Jeanne, am I not beset?’

Simon was kissing Jeanne’s hand, in congratulation on her marriage. She dimpled, looking mischievously into his eyes.

‘I shall warn Margot to have none of thee, milor’ – I will tell her – oh, terrible things about a husband’s tyranny!’

Geoffrey laid his hand on Simon’s arm.

‘Simon, mark well my words! Wives are the devil – and I know!’

‘In truth,’ Alan sighed, ‘I am the only wise one amongst us all.’

‘Art a silly lad!’ Fulk rumbled, and cast him an affectionate though fiery glance.

‘Alan speaks sooth for once,’ Simon said, and placed his finger on Margaret’s indignant lips. He had her in his arms again, and like a needle to the magnet, Jeanne had drawn near to her Geoffrey. ‘For Alan throughout hath known that needs must I fall, and at Margot’s feet.’

‘Ah, and he knew that I loved thee, even before I knew it myself,’ Margaret cried. ‘Methinks he hath worked very quietly to bring about our happiness. And yet he will not seek his own.’

‘I observe thy folly,’ he said, ‘and know mine own wisdom. That is happiness.’

Jeanne looked at Geoffrey, and a smile passed between them, of boundless conceit. Margaret stole her hand into Simon’s, smiling also. Not one of them answered Alan, and he laughed, leaning on his father’s shoulder, and surveying his two friends with soft, satisfied eyes.

‘Are my sage words beneath contempt?’ he asked.

‘Ay,’ Simon answered simply, and looked down into Margaret’s face for a long moment. A deep breath he drew, and glanced again at Alan. ‘Beneath contempt,’ said Simon the Coldheart.