A True and Perfect Knight Read online

  Gennie sat on the riverbank, watching Thomas play in the shallows. She had said her farewells and given Rebecca, as well as the servants, instructions for Thomas’s care.

  “He is a good boy.”

  de Sessions’s words struck her from behind her. Her body jerked. It was time to leave. “Yes, sir, he is,” she said, rising. Worries for Thomas’s future shook her voice, and she turned around.

  “He needs a man’s influence.”

  “Oui.”

  “Do not fear for him, madame.”

  Had de Sessions heard the tremor in her voice when she thought of Thomas’s life? “And why should I not fear for him? He is the child of a traitor. However innocent Thomas is, his father’s crime will follow him all of his days. What surety is there for such a child?”

  “There is little surety for any child. He is young, strong and resourceful.”

  “Mayhap too young.”

  “Nay, he is not. You have taught him right from wrong, and to recognize when he needs help. That will sustain him while he learns his place in the world.”

  “I fear ’twill not be enough.”

  “Tell me, can you do aught to change his circumstances?”

  “Non. I pray daily for a safe place where Thomas may grow into the kind, good man I know he can be. But, of myself, I have nothing to offer him.”

  “Then leave be and turn your mind to your own future.”

  “That too is out of my hands.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gennie held her weary head up and stumbled through the crowded hallways of the royal castle at Chester. She could do aught else, since de Sessions had her by the arm and paced at full stride past wide-eyed stares and hand-shielded whispers. Days of hurried travel had taken their toll on the only clothing she owned. Despite the modest, but new, clothes she had been given, she knew the stares and whispers focused on her, for she had heard snippets of “traitor…killed her husband…temptress”, even “witch”.

  Haven slowed as he approached the anterooms to the king’s chambers. Genvieve recalled that she had more serious problems than castle gossip and bleary eyes to worry about. de Sessions knocked, and the door opened. Gennie found herself in a room lined with benches, and those benches filled with men.

  Few of the men dressed in the fine linens and furs of nobles. The long, nubby wool coats of clerks attired the majority. Others wore the distinctive habits of monks and ordained priests. Beneath the only window, a clutch of drab, ragged, mendicant friars frowned at their more richly appointed brothers from abbey and church. Many of the men used small traveling desks. Their quills hummed a scratchy descant to the chorus of murmurs from the various groups.

  A quiet buzz followed Gennie’s progress behind Haven to the opposite side of the room. The murmurs gradually ceased. The quills halted. By the time she reached the opposite door full silence reigned, and Gennie found herself the object of curious clerical study.

  Haven’s knock echoed around the large antechamber. Gennie watched him peruse the room, noting that he seemed to take no pleasure in the company of clerks. He frowned at the group of friars, who stared openly at Gennie. Many people disliked the traveling clerics, whose vows of poverty and humility served as visible chastisement to noble and industrious commoner alike. Gennie did not mind the friars, for they brought news along with their begging. She simply wished that some of them bathed more often.

  “What? Have you not seen a gentlewoman before this day?”

  Haven’s reproach boomed into Gennie’s thoughts, and she jumped as she felt his hand slide from her arm to her shoulder.

  The men stopped staring.

  She turned her gaze to where Haven’s touch burned her, and from there to his face.

  “Do not let them concern you. They are only intrigued. Edward rarely summons women to his council chamber.”

  If de Sessions meant to reassure, he failed. She did not blame the clerks for their curiosity. It was the audience with Edward that dried her mouth with dread. “I am fine.”

  “Good,” he grunted. The door opened behind him, and he pushed her onto a bench. “Sit here. I will be back to get you soon.”

  He disappeared into the next room. Gennie twisted her fingers into a tight clasp and watched the door as if her life depended upon the wooden portal with its leather bindings. And indeed, my life does hang upon that door and what goes on behind it. A corner of her mouth twisted at the gruesome humor of her own thoughts.

  Determined not to brood over what she could not change, she turned to observe the room and found herself staring into the blazing eyes of a friar from the group beneath the window. What was he doing here?

  The door closed behind Haven. He stood, waiting for Edward to call him forward. A wine-laden table stood in the near corner of the large room. The king bent over a second, bigger table in the center of the room. His councilors too focused on what Haven took to be a map. The conversation murmured on for several minutes. Despite the sense of urgency that pervaded the chamber, Haven could tell that Edward was pleased. The smallest of smiles quirked one corner of the wide royal mouth, and Edward’s eyes sparkled in a way that told those closest to him, he was about to spring a trap.

  The conversation ended, and with much head nodding, the councilors moved en masse toward the wine. Edward reached for a goblet near his left hand and drank. He drained the cup, then wiped his mouth and bent to study the map once more.

  Has he forgotten I am here? To keep from worrying about his audience with the king, Haven studied the room. There was not much to look at. The fireplace was cold. The walls were bare. Even the cushions had been removed in preparation for the king’s departure. Haven looked for patterns in the rushes on the floor, anything to ignore the sweat that had begun to trickle down his back.

  “You are late.” Edward’s voice boomed into the chilly silence.

  Chuckles came from the council’s corner.

  Haven suppressed the startled urge to jump in response. Instead, he bowed his head and went down on one knee to honor his king. “Aye.”

  “I’ve lost half a day waiting for you and Dreyford’s widow.”

  Haven raised his head. “The widow’s party slowed us down, so I left my men with them and brought her here posthaste. But you need not have stayed. We would have caught up with you.”

  For a moment, the king studied Haven. “Aye, you would. Get up then. I delayed to share news with you, and privacy is difficult for a king to find.”

  Haven watched the councilors turn their backs and crowd closer around the wine table. Then he rose and approached Edward. “Does this news concern your plans for the Welsh and Llewellyn ap Gryffudd?”

  “Aye.” Edward turned toward the map. Haven turned with him. “We believe that Gryffudd is at his seat in Gwynedd, here.” The king pointed to a flag painted onto the middle of the mountains of northern Wales. “I’ve ordered the Cinque Port fleet to deliver half my army here, on the upper west coast, then to blockade the Welsh ports. The fleet will also assist in maintaining the bridge of boats that supply us from Anglesey. I do not want Llewellyn getting supplies from Anglesey or anywhere else. The Marcher Earls will secure the mountain passes to the east and then press westward. My brother Edmund will lead a loyal force from the south. The main army will leave from Chester.

  “I will pin Llewellyn inside Gwynedd and strip him of everything. When I am done with him, his title as Prince of Wales will be all he has left.” Edward’s fist smacked down onto the painted flag. “Five years ago, I was much too generous. I will crush this viper and all the Welsh as a lesson to any other vassals who would break their vows and betray England.”

  Haven nodded his approval and studied the map that spread out from Edward’s fist. “That's a sound plan. You can trust the Marcher Lords now. But where is Llewellyn’s brother, Wild Daffydd?”

  “That is the news I have. Until yesterday, I could not carry out this plan for fear that Daffydd remained outside the circle of armies with which I intend to s
queeze Llewellyn.”

  “And you now know where he is.”

  “Aye, he is marching on Two Hills Keep, here.” Edward’s hand moved to a spot in mid Wales near the coastal plain. “Approximately four days’ ride from Twynn.”

  Haven’s brow crinkled. “But that is outside the area in which you have Llewellyn pinned. Will not Daffydd come to his brother’s aid?”

  “Mayhap. Who can tell what Wild Daffydd will do? He and his brother do not always see eye to eye. But I believe that Daffydd will support Llewellyn. In order to do so, he will have to continue on his present path and go through Two Hills Keep.”

  “Why wouldn’t he go by sea, or take some other route?”

  “I have the entire coast blockaded. He cannot go that way. Any other route would take too long.”

  “Unless he rode his horses to death.”

  “Aye, ’tis a calculated risk I am taking.”

  Haven looked closely at his king, surprised that Edward would leave anything to chance. The sparkle of mischief in Edward’s eye had become a vivid gleam of satisfaction. “Of course,” Haven spoke softly, “you have a plan to prevent any possibility of succor for Llewellyn from his brother.”

  “Indeed, you will proceed to Two Hills Keep. From there, you will seek out Daffydd’s forces and drive them south into Edmund’s army. Mayhap you will even crush Daffyd. Either way you must capture Two Hills Keep and hold it for me.”

  Haven swallowed disappointment. He had hoped to be with Edward in the battle against Llewellyn. “Aye, my liege. I will need more men if I am to battle Daffydd and his army.”

  “I will give you a writ to command any man you need who is not yet in service. By the time your own men arrive, and if you go by boat from here to Twynn, you can be at Two Hills Keep in less than a se’enight. Daffydd should still be in the south, since few yet know of my plans for Llewellyn. That will give you time to fortify the keep.”

  Haven grimaced. He hated traveling by boat. On the journey to and from the Holy Land, he had been most vilely sick. The only consolation had been that others were just as sick. Roger, especially, had nearly starved to death for the inability to keep food in his stomach.

  That memory brought the widow to mind, and Haven smiled. He could not possibly drag her and her son on so urgent a journey. Not only would he finally be rid of the widow, but also he had a battle to look forward to at the end of his travels. Mayhap he could tolerate a few days in the belly of a boat. “If the fleet is as busy as you say with blockades and supplying the army, will boats be available at the port in Chester?”

  “I have already sent a messenger to the port with my orders. All will be in readiness.” Edward nodded and sat in a chair next to the far wall, gesturing Haven to a small chair opposite his own. A pitcher and goblets stood on a table to the right of the chairs. “I want you to remain as lord at Two Hills Keep, even after we defeat Llewellyn.”

  Haven kept silent despite his surprise at the king’s order.

  “I said earlier that I will crush the Welsh who support Llewellyn. ’Tis my intent to forbid them their homes. In fact, under no circumstance must you allow any Welshman within one hundred paces of Two Hills Keep.”

  Haven noted the unusual emphasis on this last order. “Who will till the fields, my liege?”

  “I will send English families, good solid yeoman, whose loyalty and oaths I can trust. The first group should arrive at Two Hills Keep before the winter.”

  “How many, liege?”

  “In toto, one hundred families, roughly three hundred able-bodied Englishmen, women and children.”

  “Isn’t Two Hills one of the smaller Welsh castles?”

  “Aye. So I will send a castle builder as well. St. George, if he is available; if not, one of his apprentices.”

  “Thank you for your trust in me, Sire.”

  “You are welcome. Now, my friend, tell me about the widow,” said Edward.

  Haven nodded. “She waits without.”

  Edward refilled his cup, then offered the pitcher to Haven. “Is she as beautiful as the women we had in France on our return from the Holy Lands?”

  The memory of the widow’s nakedness arose at the question. Haven shifted uncomfortably. “She is nothing like those women.” That much was true.

  “Then how did she bewitch Dreyford into treason?”

  “I do not know. She seems more interested in her son’s wellbeing than kingdoms and politics.”

  “Were I the widow of a traitor, I too would be concerned for his heir’s welfare.” Edward sipped and considered. “I should hang them both and be done with that nest of vipers.”

  I swear to protect your son and all his family. Haven’s own words echoed in his head. If he were ever to fulfill his promise to Roger, now was the time. “Sire,” Haven paused, choosing his words with care. “For the love that we both once bore to Roger Dreyford, do not hang his widow and child.”

  Edward’s look sharpened. “I cannot rule a kingdom on sentiment.”

  “We have no proof that she is directly involved.”

  “We have no proof that she is not involved.”

  “You are a powerful man with many resources, need you hang her?”

  “Aye, but right now all of those resources are sorely taxed.”

  “Surely one of the convents…”

  Edward raised his hand. “Do not talk to me of convents. The abbesses I can trust already harbor other hostages for me; at great expense, I might add. I will not spend more of my exchequer to encourage them to take in an impoverished widow and her child.”

  “Could you not ask the pope?”

  “The whole world knows of my disagreements with the pope about taxing the land-holding clergy. I cannot afford to give him so much as the possibility of leverage by asking his minions to guard a traitor’s widow. Also, I am uncertain that I wish to place such a dangerous woman within his grasp.”

  “Liege, I have served you long and well. You know I did so for love of you as well as for the hope that you might someday reward me with lands to hold for you. You have given me Two Hills Keep, in feoff. I freely return to you those lands and renounce all claim to any of your favor, if you will spare Roger’s family.” Am I losing my mind?

  Edward lifted an eyebrow. “You promised Dreyford that you would keep his family safe. Did you not?”

  The king’s perceptiveness failed to surprise Haven. “Aye.”

  “Did you swear an oath to him?”

  “Aye.” Haven felt a great lump of worry grow in his throat and cast his glance to the floor.

  “That was a foolish thing to do, my friend, for I have already decided the fate of the widow and her whelp.”

  Edward’s hand touched his shoulder gently.

  Haven raised his head to see rare sympathy in the king’s long face. The expression lingered an instant. “I am sorry, Haven. I have no time for explanations.” Then Edward called out to his secretary. “Bek, get your quills and ink. I’ve work for you to do.”

  “Aye, my liege.” The fellow bowed.

  To Haven the king said, “Go, my friend. Bring the widow to me. You will find a priest sitting to the right of the door. Bring him as well.”

  Haven squared his shoulders, stood and turned to the door. I have damned myself. Guilt washed over him. He had brought not only his dearest friend to death, but that friend’s wife and child as well. He deserved to be damned for his pride and his broken oath.

  Certain of the trust and affection the king held for him, Haven had not hesitated to swear that he would sway the king’s favor and keep safe Roger’s widow and son. Now it was too late. As his failure loomed over him, Haven saw himself denied all hope of Heaven, condemned to a life of penance followed by eternal death in Hell.

  Gennie bit her lip and wished the friar to the devil. He’d approached the instant Haven left. She’d acknowledged him only because not to do so would prove even more awkward than trying to remember where she’d seen him. The holy man resolved her dilemm
a. He reminded her that he had often heard confessions from Roger and herself when visiting the Dreyford demesne. He then remarked that he was sorry for her loss. She thanked the friar for his sympathy and tried to excuse herself. But he insisted on reiterating the entire boring story of his travels since he last saw Roger Dreyford.

  In the midst of this recital, the door opened. At the sight of Haven’s pallor, Gennie broke off her conversation with the friar. Her hand went to her throat. “What is it?”

  “The king wishes to see you now.” Haven’s words came strangled from stiff lips.

  Gennie watched him turn to the priest seated on the opposite side of the door.

  “And you also, Father.” With movements as stiff as his words, Haven turned and disappeared into the room.

  The priest rose. “After you, milady.”

  Genvieve entered the king’s council chamber. At the far end of the room stood Edward, a richly dressed clerk bent at a table by his side. The clerk’s papers whispered like the rustling of a shroud being wound about the body of the dead. She would be hanged, but her body would receive no shroud. Such care was not given to traitors. Nor would she be buried. Instead, her body would be left as carrion for crows and other vermin to devour. A public reminder of the consequences of treason.

  The king gestured her forward. The closer she got to his tall, lanky form, the more she trembled. So much, that when she finally stood next to de Sessions, she did not even try to curtsey. What would happen to Thomas?

  A smile leered across Edward’s face, and he drew the priest forward to stand beside him. "You may begin, Father.”

  Begin what? Gennie wondered. Images of the priest administering the last rites ran wild in her mind. What kind of man was the king to take such joy in the death of one woman?

  “Is this the couple, then?”

  What was the priest talking about?

  “Aye.”

  “They must join hands.”

  “Do as he asks, Haven, madame.”