The Traitor's Daughter (19 page)

“This is Rowena, my lady,” she said as the girl came to
a halt before Alais. “She will look after you at meal times.”

“You are also from Liss?” asked Alais uncertainly.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Curtsey, girl,” hissed Hilda.

Sullenly, the girl obeyed. This, then, was the girl her
husband had brought to warm his bed. Alais looked her up and down. The girl
looked to be about thirteen. She was beautiful, but slovenly. Alais knew that
she should pity her, but found herself angered instead.

“Hilda,” she said quietly, “I would not have it thought
that my husband could not dress his servants properly. I would have you ensure
that she washes her clothes and her person before I see her again.”

The girl scowled and would have spoken, but Hilda said
quietly, “Go and wash, girl. I will serve Lady Alais.”

“But…”

“Go, now.”

The girl turned and left, her anger and hatred obvious
in every step.

Alais thought that she saw a small smile twitch on Hilda’s
lips.

“How did she get into such bad habits?”

“She is a lazy girl. She…my lady…” Hilda shuffled
uncomfortably.

“She chose what she thought was an easier way,”
suggested Alais.

“Yes, my lady. Although I doubt she will think so for
much longer.” Hilda’s expression became grim again.

“I am sorry for that,” said Alais, her anger gone as
soon as it had arrived. Hilda looked surprised. “I will serve you,” she said
and moved towards the kitchens.

Alais looked again around the hall that was beginning to
fill with people. Suddenly she smiled. She had thought that Liss was the place
for secrets and intrigue, but the plots that were being hatched and cosseted
here must make everything in Liss pale in comparison. With the king away
anything could be happening here, although she doubted it could be anything as
serious as the plot that had resulted in her father’s death. Hugh had been
right about the women. Their dress seemed shocking to Alais. Then she remembered
that they would be shocked if they could see what she had been wearing the day
before.

For most of the afternoon she found herself wandering
around the palace, trying always to look as if she knew where she was going and
as if it was important that she get there.

When it was finally time to retire, she was exhausted,
worn out by walking all day and worrying about Hugh. He had decided to go
directly to Ewell. There had seemed little point in going to Portsmouth; he
could easily miss his father. He hoped to arrive at Ewell before his father,
warn him and fight off the mercenaries with him and any men travelling with
him. Then Sir William would return to Liss and Hugh and Edmund would come back
to London and take her and the servants to Liss. That was the plan.

The next day, Alais came across a hiding place as she
roamed the corridors of the palace. She bumped into Lord Neville and he guided
her into his office.

“My secretary is sick. You can take his place. I presume
you can write.” Alais nodded. “Sit there. Put on this cloak and keep the hood
over your face. At least you will be out of the way here.”

So Alais found herself pretending to be a man for the
third time. She found Lord Neville’s correspondence dull, but it kept her mind
off Hugh. Lord Neville had their meals brought to them.

“You do not complain?” he asked, putting more candles
around her as the darkness gathered closer at the end of the day.

“Why should I complain, my lord?”

“That I work you hard and you are a lady and not a
secretary.”

“I am glad of the work. Yesterday I walked through the
palace trying to keep out of the way. This is better.”

“Then return tomorrow.”

Alais returned the next day and the next. The day after
that Edmund returned, alone.

Hilda came for Alais shortly after she had broken her
fast. Lord Neville’s secretary having recovered, the councillor had no more
need of her and she had found her way to the king’s chapel. It was cold and
dark, but it was a sanctuary for her, so she decided to stay. It would be sometime
before anyone bothered her here. She settled herself and began to pray for
Hugh’s safety, her lips moving soundlessly as she poured out her love for him.
It seemed she had only been there a few moments, when Hilda rushed in, her face
scared and her hands shaking. Alais looked up at her.

“Lady Alais, Edmund has returned. He is alone”

Alais almost cried out in her pain. Hugh was surely dead
or he would have come, too. She thought she must die, there and then, but she
did not. She still breathed and Hilda still stood before her. “Take me to him,”
she ordered, thinking of nothing but hearing how Hugh had died. Hilda nodded
wordlessly and led her back to the chamber she recognised as the one that Hugh
had shared with two other lords, the chamber where she had met Hugh when she
had first come to court. Edmund was sitting on the bed. He was pale, dirty and
unshaven.

“What has happened?” she shouted.

Edmund stood, slowly. He bit his lip and she spared him
a thought to wonder if he might be in pain.

“Sir William is saved and bids you return to Liss. Your
marriage will be celebrated upon your arrival.” He did not look at her and his
face was expressionless. He spoke coldly, but his voice was level and not
shaking. Alais had spent no time trying to understand Edmund. All her efforts
had gone into understanding Hugh. Edmund’s thoughts were closed to her. His
face did not give him away in the same way that Hugh’s did.

“And Hugh?” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears; it
must be inaudible to Edmund. She already knew the answer. Edmund had come
alone.

Edmund sank back onto the bed, clutching at his chest.
Again she spared him a fleeting thought, but Hugh was more important. There was
blood on Edmund’s clothes, she realised. He must have been wounded in the
fighting at Ewell, but Hugh had been killed and nothing else mattered.

“My lady, I am sent by Sir William to take you back to
Liss.”

“What has happened to Hugh?” This time her voice was
stronger, louder. She advanced on him and stood over him.

Edmund sighed heavily. “Sir William believes that you
and Hugh plotted to kill him, not Stephen.” This time he met her eyes. When she
saw the pain in his eyes, she regretted her earlier coldness. How much of it
was due to some physical injury and how much to his knowledge of Hugh’s fate,
she was unable to tell.

“Why does he believe that?”

“I do not know.”

“I do not care,” and she did not. The time for caring
what her husband thought of her was long past. There was something more to care
about now. “What has happened to Hugh?” In her desperation she pulled Edmund’s
chin up so that he had to look into her eyes. He winced.

“You are wounded,” she said, more calmly. Perhaps he
would talk to her if they were alone. “Hilda, will you fetch some ointments and
bandages so that we can tend to your son?” She turned to watch Hilda leave.

“Now, will you tell me?” she demanded when they were
alone.

Edmund pulled his head out of her grasp. At first she
thought he was angry, then he kneaded his neck with his hand and she realised
she had caused him pain.

“Sir William did not believe that he was in danger from
Stephen. When the mercenaries arrived, he thought that you and Hugh had formed
some sort of alliance against him. We fought them, but they fought hard. There
were many of them. Hugh…Hugh was wounded…badly. His father left him there and
ordered me to take you back to Liss. So I came here for you. But I brought Hugh
with me and left him with friends here in London.” She wondered how a badly
wounded man could have borne the journey from Ewell to London. Being bounced
around on a horse must have made any serious wound much worse.

“Where is he? Take me to him.” She wanted to strike
Edmund for delaying her. If Hugh was wounded, he needed her and he needed her
soon.

“My lady, Sir William wants you at Liss and Hugh…Hugh is
dying. There is nothing you can do for him.” There were tears in his eyes; she
could not doubt him.

Alais sank to her knees unable to hold back the tears
that filled her own eyes. “He promised me that he would come back.”

“He did not throw his life away,” Edmund reassured her.
“I have been scared that he would do so, these last few months, but he fought
like a man possessed. He wanted to live. He wanted to come back to you,” he
acknowledged. Surprisingly, his face softened.

“Where is he wounded?” To hold back her tears, she
sharpened her voice and tried to focus on facts rather than on what she felt.

“Here,” Edmund indicated his side. “It is deep.” Alais
began to shake with fear. If it was true, such wounds were usually fatal. And
then Edmund had brought him to London. He must be dead already.

“Why did you not leave him?” She knew, but he must know
that he had killed his lord by moving him.

“I could not leave him to die alone.” Edmund was shocked
that she had even asked the question and she regretted it. The one thing she
had understood about Edmund was that he was fiercely loyal to Hugh.

“Yet you are here, ready to take me to Liss.”

“Because I dare not ask you…”

“You do not need to ask. Take me to him.” She stood
again, impatient to leave.

“My lady, there will be nothing for you if I take you to
him.” She wondered why Edmund cared so for her honour. He had never liked her.

“If the wound is as bad as you say, we will be back
before everyone is ready to travel tomorrow.” She did not bother to say ‘because
he will die soon’. They both knew it was true and Alais doubted they would find
him alive if she left with Edmund, but she had to know.

Edmund nodded. “He begged me to bring you.” She was
surprised; Hugh would appreciate more than anyone else what it would cost her
to go to him, but why was Edmund so reluctant to obey him. He loved Hugh and
despised her. Then she had it, “Joan and the children?”

He sagged and she put out her hand to prevent him from
falling from the bed. “They are still at Liss.”

Edmund’s despair cut into her heart. “I will send a
messenger. We will get them to Leigh. They will be safe there for a while.”

“But not for long.” Edmund was beginning to regain his
colour. Alais thought his wounds might not be as serious as she had thought at
first.

“Sir William will not think to look for them there,” she
explained. “He will think they have gone to Hill.” Edmund nodded. “Eventually
he will think to look at Leigh. By then Hugh…well, he will be…you will be
able…”

Edmund stood, reached out and held her shoulder.  “When
Hugh is…dead, I will take them into Wales. We will be safe there. And you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I will return to Liss. Sir
William is still my husband. There can be nothing else for me.”

Edmund seemed to be considering carefully before he
spoke. “My lady, Sir William…”

“Has betrayed his marriage vows more completely than I
had thought possible. I have seen Rowena and I doubt not there are others, here
and at Liss.” Alais did not bother to hide her anger nor her impatience.

“Such things are not important, my lady.” But they both
knew they were.

“I know they are not,” she lied. “I can spare one day to
watch over a man who has only shown me kindness. How much worse will my life be
at Liss if I do so? Edmund, I already know enough of my husband to understand
that I could be the most virtuous woman in the world and still go in danger of
my life with him.”

Edmund nodded. “No, my lady, it will make no difference
to you. It will be just as bad either way.”

“Are you well enough to travel?”

“Yes, my lady. My wounds can wait.”

“Take whatever Hilda brings and meet me in the stables.
Lady Alais will remain in the palace and Alfred FitzJean will ride with you.”

Hilda and Alais worked quickly to turn her back into
Alfred. Alais reasoned that a woman turning up to tend a wounded man who was
neither her husband nor her brother would not be well-received. She had not
enquired about the friends with whom Edmund had left Hugh, but they would know
Sir William as well and she did not want the report of her visit to reach him.
Although she thought nothing could make her situation at Liss any worse, she
did not want to take the chance that she might be wrong. Hilda went with her
new instructions into the still-room. She had gone initially to find potions
and ointments for her son’s wounds, now she went to find them for something
much worse.

Alais left nothing behind in the palace that would
indicate that she had ever been there. She removed her gown, her book and the
few things that Hugh had given her at Hill. This was all that she had brought
with her. She had nothing else. The book had been all that she had of her
father and her gown had been a gift from Hugh. She had nothing else that she
valued or cared to keep.

Alais did not look back as she hurried to the stables.
She did not fear that Edmund would leave without her, but that they would both
be too late. It was already a day since Hugh had been wounded and she had no
idea how far they would have to go to find him now. She did not know how good the
care was that he would receive from Edmund’s friends.

In her anxiety to be gone, Alais had not stopped to
consider what had happened and what would happen when she saw Hugh. That she
had indeed sent Hugh to his death was clear. It did not matter that she had
intended to save his life, he was dying and it was her fault, but he would have
died if she had stayed at Liss, whispered a small voice inside her. With no one
to speak for him, the evidence of the letter would have taken him to the
scaffold, but Hugh was dying now and he must blame her. How could he want to
see her now? Edmund had not lied, she was sure. Hugh really had asked for her.
So he did not blame her. She almost wished that he did. She certainly blamed
herself.

Alais knew that she must be making trouble for herself
by going with Edmund. She was defying her husband to go to Hugh. That could
only bring trouble. What she had seen at Liss and here at Westminster inclined
her to believe that she would not survive long as Sir William’s wife. Unlike Lady
Maud she did not have a powerful family to protect her from the worst of her
husband’s excesses. Agnes had left her in no doubt about Sir William’s
character. Her friend had seemed to enjoy passing on the servants’ tales about
what went on in Sir William’s bedchamber, but it was Hilda’s tale that had
scared her the most. Alais knew that she was strong, but she was under no
illusion that she would be able to bear what Sir William was rumoured to be
capable of. She had other resources on which she could draw, but they must be a
last resort and could only be used once.

Edmund’s wife and children would be in danger, since it
was entirely probable that Sir William would know that Edmund had disobeyed
him. She wished, now, that she had forced Joan to learn to read.  Edmund’s wife
had been bearing children and caring for her husband when Lady Maud had taught
Agnes to read. That made it more difficult to get a reliable warning to her.
They had had to entrust their message to a page from the court. He could be made
to tell what he knew before Joan knew of the need to flee.

She and Edmund had already made the horses ready before Hilda
appeared with the ointments and herbs that Alais knew she would need. She still
hoped that she could save Hugh. Hope and despair warred within her. She could
not give way to either. She had to keep calm. She had to be able to think and
plan or she and Edmund would be lost. She was sorry, now, that Hilda knew what
they were about. She probably knew where Hugh was and could certainly be made
to tell if Sir William ever suspected.

“Now, mother,” said Edmund, as Hilda started to cry, “you
must go to Leigh and find Joan there.”

“This will not end well,” said Hilda through her tears,
reaching out to hug Edmund to her, as if she could hold on to him for ever.

“How can it be worse than it is now?” asked Alais,
exasperated and frightened, since Hilda’s words echoed her own.

“If Hugh had not fallen in love with you, we could all
return to Liss,” said Hilda, angrily, her face turned from Edmund’s chest to
glare at Alais. Alais glared back, angry that her husband’s mistress dared to
criticise her. She was certain she had done nothing to encourage Hugh’s
affections.

“And that would be a good thing?” hissed Alais.

“No,” said Edmund, hastily, “it would not. There is
great evil at Liss. Mother, you know it is so.”

“And we are to rely on the daughter of a traitor…”

“No,” said Alais, “we are all to rely on Hugh getting
well.”

They both stared at her.

“Hugh is dying,” said Edmund and Alais realised that he
was as angry as she was.

“He does not have to die,” she shouted.

“If he lives we have worse trouble,” said Hilda
miserably.

Edmund and Alais stared at her. “How?” asked Edmund
finally.

“Why do you think his father left him to die?”

“Because he believed that Hugh and Lady Alais were in a
plot against him.”

“And why did he think that?” asked Hilda, as if she were
questioning a slow child.

Understanding dawned on Edmund and he stared at Alais
open-mouthed.

“My lady…”

“I still have to go back, Edmund. He is still my
husband.” To Alais this made no difference. It seemed to her that Sir William
did not have to have a reason to treat her badly.

“He will kill you.” Again, she wondered why Edmund
cared. His life would surely be easier without her.