The Anarchy, page 17
* * *
Haith and Ida crossed the Bristol Channel on a small trading ship heading for Tenby and planned to ride on from there to Cardigan. It was good to hear the lilt of Welsh voices all around him again. In the pungent gloom of the stables, Haith counted three coins into the cupped hand of the ostler, who was loaning him two horses. ‘Do you hear news of the lady wed to de Marais at Cardigan?’ Haith asked in as nonchalant a tone as he could muster.
‘Princess Nest, eh?’
‘Yes.’ He could not say her name.
‘Not at Cardigan.’
The ostler was not given to extended speech, it seemed.
‘Do you know where she is?’ Haith prodded.
‘Might be Llansteffan.’ The ostler, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, scanned Haith, starting at his boots (damp again) and slowly reaching up to his face. It took a while, and Haith was reminded that he was taller than most men here, unless they were of Viking heritage.
‘Flemish, are ye?’
‘Flemish by birth, yes. I am the sheriff of Pembroke,’ Haith replied, his tongue stumbling at owning his title and status.
The ostler raised one unimpressed eyebrow. ‘What be wanting with the princess?’
‘I am an old friend of the lady.’ And, he thought, but did not say, my sister resides in her household. The less said in public of Ida the better, for her sake. Haith and Ida had winced at the story of a renegade nun told to them by one of the sailors during their sea crossing. She was captured in a village outside Caen. The villagers had stripped her naked and whipped her in the marketplace before the nuns had bundled her bleeding into a habit and into a solitary cell in the convent. The story had sent a chill through Haith.
The ostler appeared to have no intention of volunteering any information on Nest and must be pressed. ‘Lady Nest is not, then, at Cardigan with her husband, you believe,’ Haith stated. ‘Are you certain of it? I don’t want to be riding your nag in the wrong direction, do I?’
The ostler shrugged and Haith craned toward the road to see who else was about and might be more forthcoming on the subject. His attention was startled back to the ostler.
‘Left her husband. The Norman.’
It appeared to be common knowledge that Nest was living apart from de Marais. Haith frowned, irritated by the unadorned gobbets of information delivered by the ostler. He mounted the horse and led the second to collect his sister. When she was safely mounted, they turned their horses’ heads toward the coast road, toward Llansteffan.
A more loquacious pie-seller at the edge of town confirmed the ostler’s information that Nest was at Llansteffan. ‘Aye, master. You’d think the lady would have been happy enough with another Norman between her legs eh, after all the others she’s had!’ The pie-seller’s enormous grin was switched off abruptly at sight of Haith’s furious expression and how he reached toward his sword hilt.
The pie-seller bundled up his display and set off at a trot, throwing back over his shoulder, ‘No offence now, master!’
Haith kicked his horse too hard, and the stallion sprang forward.
‘Haith! Slow down!’ Ida cried behind him.
But Haith gave his horse its head and sped along the clifftop, pebbles flying into the blue air on his right from the hooves of his mount. He did not rein his horse or recover from his anger until they reached the ferry at Laugharne that would take them across the Taf to Llansteffan. As Haith waited for Ida to catch up with him, he cursed himself for the gallop. The horse was surefooted, but Haith needed more thinking time. He should have taken the journey from Tenby to Llansteffan at a slow pace. There were two reasons to be anxious about this visit. He had not seen Nest for three years and there was the awkward conversation he must have with Ida concerning de Montfort. Could Nest truly have completely left de Marais? He had heard no rumour of it during his time in Normandy. How would she receive him and how might he respond? There was no use in speculating and he tried to turn off the buzz of questions in his head and focus instead on the road and his surroundings. Sunshine lit roses and blackberries in the hedgerow, but a black cloud lowered on the hill above. They were in for another dowsing.
18
Interrogation
I dipped my stylus in the ink pot another time to complete the letter to the German miner Meister Werner who I had brought down from the silver mines in Alston to assist Gruffudd at Dolaucothi. I did not sign the letter and had disguised my handwriting, but Werner would know who it was from. I took care that there was nothing in it that could incriminate me if it fell into the wrong hands. Perhaps nothing would come of this mining and then I could relax and return to sitting on the fence, kicking my heels, as Amelina put it. Amelina was standing at the window, watching visitors arriving in the courtyard. Two riders, I guessed, from the sounds of their horses’ feet striking the cobbles. We heard voices raised in greetings between the new arrivals and my servants in the hall below and Amelina turned to me, a look of delight on her face that I had not seen for a long time. I recognised what it meant immediately. I stood up too quickly and knocked the remaining ink over. It dripped brown as old blood onto the floorboards. ‘Tch!’ Amelina rushed to right the pot and take a cloth to the spilt ink. She straightened up and looked me up and down. ‘You look well,’ she told me. ‘He will be dazzled.’
‘Who will be dazzled?’
‘Haith,’ she said, confirming my guess. ‘It’s Sheriff Haith and Ida who’ve arrived!’
‘Bring Robert,’ I told her. ‘He will want to see his son. I will be down shortly.’
I blotted my letter, folded it carefully, and pulled my casket toward me. The small ivory casket had been a gift that I had received long ago from the king. Its cream surfaces were decorated with painted roundels depicting exotic birds. I unhooked the bunch of keys from my girdle and unlocked the casket. My best jewels were inside and a few treasured parchments: a love letter from the king, the ring that Gerald had given me on our wedding day, a lock of Haith’s hair tied with a black ribbon that I had shorn gleefully one morning as we lay in bed. The layers of my life. I set my treasonous letter to the miner atop my treasures and locked the casket.
My pulse was beating hard. I had not seen him for more than three years since he returned from the dead during my wedding to de Marais at Cardigan. Would he still care for me? Would he notice how I had aged, how grey streaked my black hair? I resisted the urge to linger in front of my mirror. There was nothing I could do about the fact that I was forty-three. As I moved down the steps, forcing myself not the hurry, the thought struck me he might have married.
I paused at the bottom of the steps before entering the hall. Haith was standing with his back to me at the hearth, warming his hands after his ride. I took a moment to drink in his presence and brace myself, and then walked to Ida and hugged her. ‘I’m so glad to have you back.’ Haith turned and looked keenly at me and then at our son Robert, who ran gleefully into Ida’s wide-opened arms. ‘I thank you for attending me,’ I said softly to Haith.
Haith smiled warmly to me and turned his attention to Robert, who peeked at him shyly over Ida’s shoulder. His delighted expression at the first sight of Robert shifted abruptly to sadness, and I knew it was because he could not share in Robert’s childhood with me. I noted the chime of Haith and Robert’s pale blue eyes when he turned back to me. ‘He is a fine lad.’
I nodded. ‘I am so pleased to have your sister returned to me,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Ida was a great comfort immediately after my marriage,’ I glanced away from his gaze, ‘and your return.’ I gestured for him to sit and took my seat opposite, focusing on my hands in my lap. ‘Ida’s safety from exposure is of great concern to me.’
‘And to me,’ he responded.
My servants were setting the board for a meal, and I asked Haith if he would join us. Ida went upstairs to unpack her travelling chest and change her clothes. There was an awkward silence between Haith and I as we waited for Ida to return. He talked with Robert about dogs and Haith’s mastiff was well-spoilt with admiration between them. When Ida returned, we shifted to the table. As we ate, Ida carried most of the conversation, which became stilted whenever Haith and I were required to speak directly to one another. The servants cleared away the trenchers and dishes and I invited him to sit in front of the fire again with a beaker of wine. Perhaps the wine would loosen the tension between us. Amelina scooped up Robert and took him to help her feed the chickens.
‘The rebellion is over, then?’ I asked Haith, reaching for a topic that might keep the conversation flowing and not take us into any embarrassing or painful corners. ‘The king has prevailed at last in Normandy?’
* * *
Haith answered Nest’s questions politely, struggling all the while to look her in the face. Her gaze was like ‘the deer’s glance’ as he had once heard a poet sing. It was impossible that he could have forgotten how extraordinarily beautiful she was, yet the sight of her seemed like the first time. He must have grown accustomed to it, before, when they had been lovers. Another poet’s words came to mind: a jewel grows pale on you and a crown does not shine. He wished he could tell these words to her. She was wearing a silver-grey robe. Her elegant long hands were caressed by the frilled cuffs of a wide-sleeved over-mantle. The scalloped edges of her veil framed her face that once had lain on a pillow next to his own.
The sight of her was like a continent lost under the sea for years that had suddenly risen to the surface again. If he looked too much at her, his eyes took on a life of their own and required to roam over every detail of her face and body. He had not realised how hardfast he had held her absence from his life until now. He smiled awkwardly at Ida instead. ‘The slow outcome of the king’s negotiations with his son-in-law, Emperor Henry,’ Haith found himself reporting rather formally to Nest, ‘was that the emperor began an invasion of France, marching toward Reims in a show of force. The emperor’s vast army turned back before engaging the French king’s forces, but it was enough to put fear into them. King Henry and Count Thibaud de Blois attacked the Vexin but they were repelled by Amaury de Montfort.’ Haith noticed how Ida became alert at the mention of de Montfort’s name. He lost track of the story he was trying to tell Nest in response to her questions on the progress of the campaign.
‘I noticed the king has developed a new obsession,’ Nest said, ‘an unhealthy concern almost, with auguries.’
Haith nodded. ‘Yes, since he lost his son.’ There was another awkward silence that stretched on while he reached in vain for something more to say to her.
She rescued them from the silence. ‘Ida wrote to me that you have been investigating the sinking of The White Ship?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, that’s right. I have.’
‘Is the mystery clarified now? Was it an accident as we all believe, as the king believes, or do you know a culprit? Is it possible anyone could have deliberately caused such a thing?’
‘Well,’ Haith felt ridiculously tongue-tied, like a teenage boy. Confronted with Nest in the flesh, rather than in his memory, his brain was refusing to work properly. ‘Ida,’ he blurted, ‘I found a letter from Robert de Bellême among Gisulf’s possessions. The clerk was blackmailing many people,’ he tried to explain to Nest. He instantly regretted his words to Ida, but they were out there now and Nest was contemplating him with an expression full of curiosity.
‘Robert de Bellême,’ Ida said in a startled voice.
‘He accused you …’ Haith swallowed. ‘Well, he implied that you had extracted information from Amaury de Montfort.’
‘Well, I did, Haith. You know that. I stole some of the correspondence between them. I did it for the king and it was important. It convicted de Bellême and removed that threat to the king.’
Haith glanced at Nest and saw that Ida’s statement had not surprised her. She was in Ida’s confidence on the matter of Amaury, then.
‘What is your relationship to de Montfort, Ida? Won’t you tell me that?’
‘It is nothing to concern you. It was some time ago and of no significance – to him at any rate, I am sure.’
‘Yet, I must press you and would know for reasons of my own. Perhaps you would prefer to speak in private?’ Haith glanced at Nest again and was sorry to see that she was frowning at him now.
‘No. I have no secrets from Nest. She knows everything about me. I owe her that since she shields me in her household.’
‘You owe me nothing, Ida. I owe you love and give you anything willingly,’ Nest said. She frowned pointedly at Haith. He must be appearing a bully to her and should desist with his questions.
Ida interrupted his thoughts with a bald declaration. ‘Amaury was the reason I left Fontevraud.’ She looked down.
Haith cast a guilty glance in Nest’s direction. ‘Sheriff, you should persist with your questioning of your sister,’ she told him frostily. ‘Since it seems you are intent upon it.’
‘The questions can wait for another time,’ he tried to excuse himself. ‘I discovered Gisulf was murdered on the ship, you see, and that led to the sinking. The murder was commissioned by Morin du Pin, the steward of Waleran de Meulan.’
‘Waleran!’ Nest exclaimed, and Haith recalled she had been very close with Waleran’s mother, Elizabeth de Vermandois, long ago at court when they – Nest, Henry, Elizabeth and he – when they were all so young.
‘The young count, it seems,’ Haith hastened to add, ‘did not know of the planned murder in advance. Du Pin acted to protect Waleran from Gisulf’s blackmail – over the rebellion, you see.’
‘How is Ida’s friend, Count Amaury, involved?’ Nest asked.
He had hoped she would not ask that. ‘I’m not sure … I don’t know …’ Haith stuttered.
‘You know I befriended Amaury, briefly,’ Ida said. She was red in the face but rushed on. ‘He and I … well you can know, Haith. You are my brother. We were lovers. Just one time. It was inadvertent on both our parts. An accident of happenstance. He took a fall from his horse. I was set by the abbess to watch over him. I … it was the occasion when I took the letter that convicted de Bellême. Do not hate me Haith!’
‘I don’t hate you, Ida,’ he protested. ‘I can only hate myself for pressing you, for distressing you. You acted for the sake of the king. You acted against rebellion.’
‘Yes, but no. The letter was that, yes. But the … I took Amaury as a lover because I liked him. I liked him very well. Because I was not made to be a nun. I did not choose to be a nun.’
There was a long moment of silence between them all and Nest reached a hand to Ida’s cheek briefly and stared back coldly at Haith.
‘I understand, Ida. I do,’ he stated, avoiding the angry pools of Nest’s blue eyes. How could he be so stupid as to choose this moment, his first meeting with her after so long, to interrogate Ida. She was clearly unimpressed by his behaviour.
‘He was kind to me. Interested in me,’ Ida said, pulling his attention back to her.
‘Of course he was interested in you. Any intelligent man would be,’ Haith stated. ‘He gave you the book of Ovid’s poems.’
‘Yes, we spoke of the poems together.’
‘But only once? You were only together once.’ It was Haith’s turn to colour now.
‘Yes. Just that one time, but I saw him again in Reims, during the papal council, at the bishop’s residency.’
‘Ah. Not long before the fateful sailing of The White Ship.’
Ida was bewildered. ‘Yes, I suppose that is so.’
‘Ida, can you tell me what you and Count Amaury spoke of on that occasion?’ Haith had momentarily forgotten about Nest’s disapproval in his keenness to at last gain answers to his burning questions.
Ida frowned at him. ‘Why on earth do you want to know that, Haith?’
‘I have a concern, a suspicion that I am trying to clear up, to eradicate, let’s say.’
‘A suspicion against Amaury?’
‘Yes.’
‘He is a man of honour.’
‘So I have observed myself. Even so, I must ask you this, Ida. Was the clerk Gisulf a matter of discussion between you?’
Ida coloured again, the flush staining her face and neck. She pulled her wimple away from her skin to flap some air at it.
‘You persist too much, Haith, I believe, beyond the bounds of care for your sister.’ Nest’s voice was distinctly wintry.
‘It’s alright, Nest. I will answer. I want to answer. Yes,’ Ida said slowly. ‘Amaury and I did speak of Gisulf when we met in Reims.’
‘I’m sorry to press you, Ida.’
‘You are truly sorry, Haith?’ Nest asked in a tone of challenge. She was staring at him as if he had been revealed to be another man. ‘More wine, here!’ she called out, looking around the hall to a young maid who was sweeping near the hearth. The maid dropped her broom with a clatter and ran toward the pantry.
A few moments later, a manservant came with a recharged jug and filled their beakers. ‘Is there aught amiss, my lady?’ he asked Nest, looking at Ida’s flushed features.
‘No, no. Just leave it there,’ Nest told him.
The man bowed himself away. Haith lifted the beaker toward Ida, and she took it from him. ‘Don’t fuss,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I’m sorry I have shocked you, Ida. I don’t mean …’
‘Whatever you mean, Haith, you have pressed me, and you know what you are about.’ Ida stared at him.
He swallowed and avoided the angry expressions of both women. ‘Did you and Amaury discuss Gisulf? Will you give me an answer?’
‘I will because I can only guess that it matters immensely to you that you should interrogate me in this fashion.’ Her voice was laden with resentment.
