Harlequin. Bernard Cornwell
‘If your lordship,’ Belas said, smirking at the Earl, ‘had not intervened, then the Countess would have been raped by Sir Simon Jekyll.’
Sir Simon stood to one side of the hall. ‘That is a lie!’ he protested in French.
The Earl sighed. ‘So why were your breeches round your ankles when I came into the house?’
Sir Simon reddened as the men in the hall laughed. Thomas had to translate for Will Skeat, who nodded, for he had already heard the tale.
‘The bastard was about to roger some titled widow,’ he explained to Thomas, ‘when the Earl came in. Heard her scream, see? And he’d seen a coat of arms on the house. The aristocracy look after each other.’
The lawyer now laid a long list of charges against Sir Simon. It seemed he was claiming the widow and her son as prisoners who must be held for ransom. He had also stolen the widow’s two ships, her husband’s armour, his sword and all the Countess’s money. Belas made the complaints indignantly, then bowed to the Earl. ‘You have a reputation as a just man, my lord,’ he said obsequiously, ‘and I place the widow’s fate in your hands.’
The Earl of Northampton looked surprised to be told his reputation for fairness. ‘What is it you want?’ he asked.
Belas preened. ‘The return of the stolen items, my lord, and the protection of the King of England for a widow and her noble son.’
The Earl drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, then frowned at Sir Simon. ‘You can’t ransom a three-year-old,’ he said.
‘He’s a count!’ Sir Simon protested. ‘A boy of rank!’
The Earl sighed. Sir Simon, he had come to realize, had a mind as simple as a bullock seeking food. He could see no point of view but his own and was single-minded about pursuing his appetites. That, perhaps, was why he was such a formidable soldier, but he was still a fool. ‘We do not hold three-year-old children to ransom,’ the Earl said firmly, ‘and we don’t hold women as prisoners, not unless there is an advantage which outweighs the courtesy, and I see no advantage here.’ The Earl turned to the clerks behind his chair. ‘Who did Armorica support?’
‘Charles of Blois, my lord,’ one of the clerks, a tall Breton cleric, answered.
‘Is it a rich fief?’
‘Very small, my lord,’ the clerk, whose nose was running, spoke from memory. ‘There is a holding in Finisterre which is already in our hands, some houses in Guingamp, I believe, but nothing else.’
‘There,’ the Earl said, turning back to Sir Simon. ‘What advantages will we make from a penniless three-year-old?’
‘Not penniless,’ Sir Simon protested. ‘I took a rich armour there.’
‘Which the boy’s father doubtless took in battle!’
‘And the house is wealthy.’ Sir Simon was getting angry. ‘There are ships, storehouses, stables.’
‘The house,’ the clerk sounded bored, ‘belonged to the Count’s father-in-law. A dealer in wine, I believe.’
The Earl raised a quizzical eyebrow at Sir Simon, who was shaking his head at the clerk’s obstinacy. ‘The boy, my lord,’ Sir Simon responded with an elaborate courtesy which bordered on insolence, ‘is kin to Charles of Blois.’
‘But being penniless,’ the Earl said, ‘I doubt he provokes fondness. More of a burden, wouldn’t you think? Besides, what would you have me do? Make the child give fealty to the real Duke of Brittany? The real Duke, Sir Simon, is a five-year-old child in London. It’ll be a nursery farce! A three-year-old bobbing down to a five-year-old! Do their wet nurses attend them? Shall we feast on milk and penny-cakes after? Or maybe we can enjoy a game of hunt the slipper when the ceremony is over?’
‘The Countess fought us from the walls!’ Sir Simon attempted a last protest.
‘Do not dispute me!’ the Earl shouted, thumping the arm of his chair. ‘You forget that I am the King’s deputy and have his powers.’ The Earl leaned back, taut with anger, and Sir Simon swallowed his own fury, but could not resist muttering that the Countess had used a crossbow against the English.
‘Is she the Blackbird?’ Thomas asked Skeat.
‘The Countess? Aye, that’s what they say.’
‘She’s a beauty.’
‘After what I found you prodding this morning,’ Skeat said, ‘how can you tell?’
The Earl gave an irritated glance at Skeat and Thomas, then looked back to Sir Simon. ‘If the Countess did fight us from the walls,’ he said, ‘then I admire her spirit. As for the other matters…’ He paused and sighed. Belas looked expectant and Sir Simon wary. ‘The two ships,’ the Earl decreed, ‘are prizes and they will be sold in England or else taken into royal service, and you, Sir Simon, will be awarded one-third of their value.’ That ruling was according to the law. The King would take a third, the Earl another and the last portion went to the man who had captured the prize. ‘As to the sword and armour…’ The Earl paused again. He had rescued Jeanette from rape and he had liked her, and he had seen the anguish on her face and listened to her impassioned plea that she owned nothing that had belonged to her husband except the precious armour and the beautiful sword, but such things, by their very nature, were the legitimate plunder of war. ‘The armour and weapons and horses are yours, Sir Simon,’ the Earl said, regretting the judgement but knowing it was fair. ‘As to the child, I decree he is under the protection of the Crown of England and when he is of age he can decide his own fealty.’ He glanced at the clerks to make sure they were noting down his decisions. ‘You tell me you wish to billet yourself in the widow’s house?’ he asked Sir Simon.
‘I took it,’ Sir Simon said curtly.
‘And stripped it bare, I hear,’ the Earl observed icily. ‘The Countess claims you stole money from her.’
‘She lies.’ Sir Simon looked indignant. ‘Lies, my lord, lies!’
The Earl doubted it, but he could hardly accuse a gentleman of perjury without provoking a duel and, though William Bohun feared no man except his king, he did not want to fight over so petty a matter. He let it drop. ‘However,’ he went on, ‘I did promise the lady protection against harassment.’ He stared at Sir Simon as he spoke, then looked at Will Skeat, and changed to English. ‘You’d like to keep your men together, Will?’
‘I would, my lord.’
‘Then you’ll have the widow’s house. And she is to be treated honourably, you hear me? Honourably! Tell your men that, Will!’
Skeat nodded. ‘I’ll cut their ears off if they touch her, my lord.’
‘Not their ears, Will. Slice something more suitable away. Sir Simon will show you the house and you, Sir Simon,’ the Earl spoke French again, ‘will find a bed elsewhere.’
Sir Simon opened his mouth to protest, but one look from the Earl quietened him. Another petitioner came forward, wanting redress for a cellar full of wine that had been stolen, but the Earl diverted him to a clerk who would record the man’s complaints on a parchment which the Earl doubted he would ever find time to read.
Then he beckoned to Thomas. ‘I have to thank you, Thomas of Hookton.’
‘Thank me, my lord?’
The Earl smiled. ‘You found a way into the town when everything else we’d tried had failed.’
Thomas reddened. ‘It was a pleasure, my lord.’
‘You can claim a reward of me,’ the Earl said. ‘It’s customary.’
Thomas shrugged. ‘I’m happy, my lord.’
‘Then you’re a lucky man, Thomas. But I shall remember the debt. And thank you, Will.’
Will