The Bastard's Crown Read online

  When he finally arrived at the bishop’s manor mid-afternoon he was told that the bishop was away visiting the abbot of Waltham Abbey, another Norman. He cursed and debated whether to wait for him to return or to set off to find him. Finally he decided he should carry on to the abbey.

  Although he had clear directions he went wrong somewhere and found himself following a road through woods that seemed to be heading too far to the north. Then he spotted a group of people ahead and was about to hail them and ask for guidance when he realised that they were clustered around two mounted men who they appeared to be threatening.

  Guillaume had quickly recovered from his surprise and pulled his sword out of its scabbard. At the same time he pulled back savagely on his courser’s reins and, as it had been trained to do, it reared up and lashed out with its iron shod hooves dislocating the shoulder of one of the assailants and smashing in the face of another. He brought his sword down at the same time, smashing the collar bone of a third man. Meanwhile Hugo had drawn his dagger and, leaning forward, he thrust it into the hand of the man holding his bridle. The man let go with a howl and Hugo put his spurs to his palfrey and followed in the wake of the Courser as it rode down another man armed only with a pitchfork.

  As Guillaume tried to break clear he was astonished to see a mounted Saxon in chainmail and a helmet wielding a heavy war axe appear and charge the remaining robbers. Only half were now left unwounded and they quickly took to their heels. This was a mistake as the armoured Saxon brought his axe down on one, cleaving his head in two then, pulling it clear, he overtook another and swung it backwards embedding it in the man’s chest. One of the remaining men tried to stand fast and spear the Saxon’s horse but the mounted man jinked to the left and lashed out with his boot, sending the man sprawling. The Saxon leaped off his horse and, drawing his dagger slit the robber’s throat.

  Guillaume and Hugo left the badly wounded to die but tied up the other three just as the Saxon rode back.

  ‘Pity, some of them got away’ he said in English.

  ‘We owe you a debt of gratitude’ Guillaume replied in the same language. ‘I am Sir Guillaume Peverel and this is my squire, Hugo de Cuille. My mother is a Saxon who owns a manor north of here. We were on our way back to Barnet, where we serve William the Norman, when we were set upon by those rogues.’

  ‘I’m Oswin, housecarl to King Edward. I was on my way to Bishop William with a summons to Winchester. But he is not at Barnet; he’s staying the night at Waltham Abbey.’

  ‘You are a little lost then’ Guillaume commented drily.

  ‘Yes, I know’ Oswin smiled. ‘Luckily for you though, eh? Hopefully you can guide me.’

  They set off again as the prisoners, each with a halter round their neck, stumbled along behind them. They would no doubt hang, but that would be someone else’s decision once they were handed over to the Abbot, on whose land they had been captured.

  As they rode Oswin told them something about himself. Hugo took a liking to him and was happy to practice his English on him. Guillaume said little but Hugo was too busy chatting to notice. Oswin tried to be diplomatic but it was clear that, like most of his people, he disliked Bishop William and resented the other Normans who had taken important appointments away from Saxons. Eventually the conversation got around to Duke William. Oswin asked what sort of man he was.

  ‘Fierce and ruthless; you wouldn’t want to cross him, but he is a brilliant commander. He has never lost a battle’ Hugo boasted.

  ‘Ah, that must be Waltham Abbey’ Guillaume broke in before Hugo could say anything else.

  Later that evening Guillaume took Hugo to one side.

  ‘We are not here just to serve Bishop William. Anyone could do that. The duke trusts me enough to take me into his confidence. He intends to take the throne here when Edward dies and he wants me to assess the military strength of the English and the political state of the kingdom. He needs to know who would support his claim and how likely it is that he could defeat the rest and conquer the country.’

  Hugo was speechless. He had no inkling of this. Then he had a thought.

  ‘Was that why you were in Brittany? On a mission for your fath… for the duke’ he corrected himself hurriedly.

  ‘For the duke, yes.’ Guillaume’s tone had grown cold. ‘So don’t say more than you have to when speaking to our potential adversaries. Now go to bed.’

  It was obvious that the rumours about his paternity were a sore point with Guillaume. Hugo came to the conclusion that Guillaume probably felt that they denigrated the honour of his mother. Otherwise why wouldn’t he be proud of being the duke’s son?

  Hugo turned to go but he had to ask ‘does my father know of this?’

  ‘No, just Sir Miles and me. Now off you go.’

  The next morning the knight was as friendly towards his squire as he had ever been. This time he rode beside Oswin and engaged him deeply in conversation. Hugo couldn’t hear what was said but he was sure that Guillaume would be subtly pumping him for information. He liked Oswin and he wasn’t sure how he felt about his master taking advantage of his good nature in this way.

  They left the next morning and, once the bishop had collected his household, Oswin joined them for the long ride to Winchester. It had been the capital of Wessex but it wasn’t capable of accommodating the royal household any more. The bishop’s knights and squires had to sleep on the dirt floor of the small cottage rented for their master and so no-one was too sorry when it was time to return to London.

  In Winchester Hugo had seen Oswin on guard a few times and they nodded to each other but Hugo was surprised when Oswin came looking for him one evening about a week after their arrival back in London. Having got permission, he and Tristan accompanied Oswin, Cenric and Esa to a tavern. Squires were not normally allowed out after dark but Guillaume and Miles felt that they would be safe with the king’s housecarls.

  Hugo and Tristan preferred to drink wine but after the first couple of tankards of ale it began to taste better. Cenric came from a Danish family; his father had moved from the city then called Jorvik to London in the time of King Cnut and he had grown up there. Esa was the son of a thane in East Anglia so between them they represented the main three ethnic groups that made up the English.

  After an hour or so the five moved to another tavern where there were a surprising number of serving wenches. Tristan caught on quickly but Hugo, being a little more naïve, didn’t realise at first. Tristan had been introduced to his first whore when he was sixteen but, of course, Hugo had spent nearly a year as a captive and then had been banished to England where he had been unable to explore the less savoury aspects of the city until now.

  The unfortunate thing was, although he had a great time with the girl he had chosen, when he woke the next day with a head that felt as if it had been hit by a mace, he couldn’t remember much about it. Tristan was in nearly the same state but he was able to assure his friend that he was now a man.

  ‘Well I don’t feel any different, except for this damn head. The next time I’ll stay sober so I know I’ve had a good time.’

  The usually cheerful Roland was sulky when they went down to the training ground later in the day.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Hugo wanted to know.

  ‘Thanks for leaving me on my own last night with those cretins.’ He was referring the other squires who were between eighteen and twenty and who liked to spend the evening playing dice. They didn’t have much to do with Roland as they considered him a baby at fourteen. ‘I bet you had a great time.’

  ‘Wouldn’t know’ Hugo replied. ‘Can’t remember a thing about it.’ And both he and Tristan burst out laughing, much to Roland’s disgust. As he walked away in a huff Tristan turned to Hugo.

  ‘Should we take him with us when we next go out with Oswin and his friends? Mind you he’d probably run a mile if we introduced him to Edwynne’, referring to the girl he had taken to bed last night.

  ‘Well, I wish someone had do
ne that for me when I was his age instead of having to wait until now. But he better not show us up.’

  ‘You’re right; he’s a bit of a goody goody. He’d probably be embarrassed. I don’t expect he’s done anything wayward in his life.’

  Hugo grinned. ‘That’s not what my father told me.’ He thought for a moment. He liked Roland and felt a little sorry for him as the youngest squire. He turned back to Tristan. ‘Alright, we’ll take him.’

  Two weeks later they went back to the tavern that they had ended up at before. Esa was on duty but Oswin and Cenric were dubious about taking Roland with them.

  ‘He just wouldn’t be left behind, besides I bet you had had your first girl when you were fourteen.’ Neither man was going to deny that so Roland was allowed to tag along, but on the condition that he didn’t have any ale.

  The boy didn’t mind not drinking, his eyes were far too busy following the girls round the smoke filled room. When it came time for them to go upstairs Tristan called Edwynne over and whispered in her ear.

  ‘But I would rather have a man like you who knew what he was doing than a raw boy who’ll come before he can get his braies off.’

  ‘Well, then you can make sure it lasts longer the second time. He’s a nice lad and I want someone who’ll look after him for his first time.’

  Sometime later, when they were about to leave, Edwynne sidled up to Tristan and whispered in his ear.

  ‘Thank you for introducing me to Roland. He was eager to learn, not just interested in his own satisfaction like most – and he has the stamina of a lion.’ Tristan looked at Roland with new respect. He told Hugo what Edwynne had said later on.

  ‘By the way do you remember what happened this time?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Hugo grinned. ‘Very much so.’

  Roland had felt quite lonely at times, being the youngest by three years, but after that night he was accepted by the other two as an equal and the trio became firm friends.

  As Yuletide approached Oswin told his Norman friends that he was being permitted to go home for the twelve day celebration.

  ‘Can you get permission to come with me?.’

  ‘I doubt it’ Hugo replied dubiously, then brightened up. ‘But it wouldn’t do any harm to ask.’

  Roland asked Sir Robert first and was surprised when he said yes after a moment’s thought.

  ‘Have Hugo and Tristan have been invited as well?’

  ‘Er, yes, Sir Robert.’ Roland looked at the ground. ‘I don’t suppose we will be allowed to go.’

  ‘Leave it to me.’ The knight smiled. ‘I’ll speak to Sir Miles and Sir Guillaume.’

  So it was that the day before the holiday began the four of them rode out of London on the road to Burneham. It was a frosty morning and the frozen ground crunched under the horses’ hooves. As the morning wore on the weak sun started to thaw the frost but there were patches of ice that they had to take carefully. They stopped at a tavern for lunch and arrived at Burneham just as the sun was setting.

  Two boys came running to take the horses as they dismounted outside the hall house and the doors were flung open as Oswin’s siblings came tumbling out to greet him. His parents waited on the top step and eventually, when the hubbub died down, Oswin introduced the three Normans to his family. Apart from his parents and two older brothers there were thirteen year-old twins; a boy called Wulfric and a girl called Rowena. Hugo thought that she was the prettiest maiden he had ever seen and had real trouble taking his eyes off her. Had he not been so enraptured he might have noticed that she was having the same effect on Roland. She had an elfin face that enchanted him as well as conveying a degree of vulnerability that he wanted to protect. Her body still had to fill out but the slight swell of her breasts under her gown hinted at the changes to come. As a maiden she wore her hair unbound. It was more of a chestnut than her brothers’ fair hair but it had a sheen that reflected the light. He was so distracted that Oswin had to invite him inside twice before he heard him.

  The hall house was a traditional Saxon building with a main hall with a curtained-off solar at one end. It included a central hearth with a hole above it in the roof to let the smoke out. Normally everyone else would sleep in the hall and the family would have beds in the solar but this wasn’t suitable for the thane, his wife, two adult sons, one of whom was married with a child of his own, and the twins so they had built another smaller hall nearby with a solar for the married son and heir and his family and partitioned cells for the other two sons and for guests. Hugo was disappointed to find out that Rowena still lived in the main solar with her parents. He was even more disappointed to hear from Oswin that his father hoped to betroth her to a grandson of Earl Aelfgar of Mercia.

  ‘Is that likely?’ Hugo hardly dared breathe whilst he waited for an answer. At the same time he felt extremely foolish to be so besotted with a girl he hadn’t even spoken to yet.

  Oswin shrugged. ‘The boy’s father is the ealdorman to whom my father owes allegiance and he has many thanes like my father, so who knows? Why are you interested anyway?’

  ‘Oh, um. Just curious. When do we go and get the Yule log in?’ Hugo changed the subject and hope that his blushing didn’t show in the poor illumination thrown out by the rush lights.

  That night Hugo entered the hall as everyone was sitting down to dinner. Oswin was sitting next to his brother’s wife and indicated the spare seat beside him. To his delight he saw that Rowena was on his other side just before he noted with annoyance that she was already in conversation with Roland on her other side. He sat down and made polite conversation to Oswin for a while until the latter’s voice died away as he nodded at Hugo. Hugo was a bit slow on the uptake and then realised that Roland’s prattle had stopped. He turned towards Rowena and saw that, thankfully, Wulfric at the end of the table had got bored and had butted in to talk to Roland.

  Rowena smiled at him and asked what he thought of Burneham in near perfect Norman French.

  For an instant Hugo was tongue tied. ‘Oh, ah, well. Of course, we haven’t seen much of the manor as yet’ he managed to get out. He could have kicked himself.

  ‘No, of course, how silly of me.’ She went to turn back to Roland.

  ‘But from what I have seen it is very similar to my father’s manor at Cuille in Maine.’ He groaned inwardly. How condescending that sounded. He saw in her eyes the loss of interest in him.

  ‘That was before the Angevins captured it and we had to flee for our lives’ he managed to add.

  ‘Oh, how awful. What happened?’

  He was sorry when dinner ended. By then Rowena was enthralled by his tale and he had only just reached the part where he had been abducted by Rollo.

  ‘Let’s go riding tomorrow and you can tell me the rest of your adventures.’ Hugo’s heart soared and his euphoria wasn’t even dented when she added ‘of course Wulfric will have to come and chaperone me.’

  He was less pleased when he saw that Roland was also down at the stables the next morning. He was chatting away to Rowena and trying to ignore Wulfric, who was obviously trying the make the most of having a boy near his own age to talk to.

  The four rode over to a wooded area called Burneham Beeches and stopped in a clearing to eat the bread and cheese they had brought with them. A sizeable stream ran nearby and Wulfric took Roland away to teach him how to tickle trout. He gave a despairing look back at Hugo and Rowena who had their heads close together as they sat chatting on Hugo’s cloak. He told her the rest of his story and was thrilled by her sympathetic response to his trials and tribulations. The two boys came back with two fat trout just as Hugo finished telling her a heavily expurgated version of what had happened at Bishop’s Hatfield. Roland was dismayed to see Rowena hung on Hugh’s every word and sulked all the way back to the village. This upset Wulfric who didn’t understand what was wrong with Roland.

  As Christmas passed and the twelve day holiday drew to a close Rowena realised that she hated the thought of Hugo leaving. She didn’t under
stand her emotions, especially as she began to blame him for having to go. She was weeping to herself in the solar when he mother found her.

  ‘Good heavens, what on earth is wrong child?’

  Rowena, being the only daughter, was close to her mother and felt that she would be bound to understand. So she told her how she felt about Hugo.

  ‘Don’t be so silly child. He is only a squire and his father is now landless. How could he support you? In any case we need you to marry to advance the interests of the family. Do you think I fell in love with your father?’ She laughed at the thought.

  ‘Now dry your eyes. Thank goodness they are leaving tomorrow.’ Then a thought crossed her mind and she gripped her daughters arm quite hard.

  ‘You haven’t done anything have you?’

  ‘Ow, you are hurting. Let go. What do you mean “done anything”.’

  ‘Don’t be coy with me, Rowena. You know what I am talking about.’

  The girl was horrified. ‘No, of course not. Hugo is too much of a gentleman; and, in any case, Wulfric and Roland were always around.’

  ‘Thank goodness. Nevertheless I think we’ll put you at the other end of the table tonight. I don’t know what Oswin was thinking off – always putting you next to the de Cuille boy night after night.’

  Hugo was puzzled and hurt that he didn’t have a chance to speak to Rowena on the last night. The next morning she wasn’t even there to say goodbye and he felt miserable all the way back to London. The others realised what the problem was and tried to cheer him up, all except Roland, but to no avail. Eventually Oswin fell in beside him.

  ‘I’m really sorry Hugo. There is nothing I would like better that to see my baby sister betrothed to you but I fear that my parents have other ideas. If it’s any consolation she is as upset as you are. I don’t think she will forget you in a hurry.’

  ‘Thanks Oswin. You’re a good friend. I shan’t forget her either, not ever.’