Caging the Lyon Page 12

  ‘Yes, but it’s not good. The people have stuck fast to my father and, even after the earl of Leicester landed with a large contingent of Flemish mercenaries, they are making little or no progress.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that the depredations of the Flemings and the burning of Norwich have helped your cause, sire.’

  Henry was about to respond when a messenger from England was brought into his presence. The man brought more gloomy tidings. Humphrey de Bohun and the local militia had met the rebel army near Bury St. Edmunds and cut them to pieces. The earl of Leicester and his wife had been taken prisoner and Hugh Bigod, earl of Norfolk, had agreed a truce with de Bohun.

  ‘I wonder if the Scots are having more success in Northumberland.’ Henry asked despondently.

  ~#~

  Jocelyn sat in his master’s room at Hermitage Castle polishing Robert de Soulis hauberk and chainmail chauses. His life as de Soulis’ squire was very similar to his service with Richard de Cuille except that life in the primitive wooden castle was a far cry from the more civilised existence he was used to at Otterburn and Harbottle. For a start there was only one other squire who spoke any French but, as he was the son of a Norman serjeant, he didn’t have a lot in common with the son of a baron. The other squires who served the household knights were native Scots and had little hope of progressing beyond man-at-arms, perhaps becoming serjeants if they were lucky. They distrusted Jocelyn because he was English and made life unpleasant for him whenever they could. Consequently he felt lonely and was desperately unhappy. Still, he tried to comfort himself, I’m lucky to be alive.

  Lord Robert de Soulis was a Norman in the service of William, King of Scots. William’s grandfather, King David, had inherited a weak and fragmented kingdom where his nobles were out of control and ignored him, acting as they pleased. David’s solution was to invite Norman knights to come north to serve him to bolster his power in return for grants of land and the status of barons or even earls. Some also held land in England but most had been landless knights seeking to better themselves. Robert de Soulis father was one of these and had been made baron of Liddesdale. His neighbours, the Elwoods and other clans in lower Liddesdale resented their new overlord and at first refused to recognise his authority over what they regarded as their ancestral home. A punitive expedition into Liddesdale, burning and pillaging their lands, had persuaded the clans to acknowledge de Soulis as their lord, but the relationship remained an uneasy one.

  As he polished the armour Jocelyn’s thoughts dwelt on the day he had first met Robert de Soulis. Jocelyn and his three companions had entered Wauchope Forest making for the high pass through the Cheviots at Carter Bar. In the distance they could hear the barking dogs following their trail but they felt fairly certain they could outdistance them until they crossed the border to safety, despite being hampered by the wounded Sir Turstin, who was weak from loss of blood. All they had eaten was a few berries grabbed from bushes as they hurried past but drinking water was not a problem, thanks to the many small burns they came across.

  As they started to climb up the wooded slopes towards Carter Bar they heard a hunting horn to the north of them. Jocelyn was puzzled as the barking was coming from the south-west. Surely their pursuers could not have got ahead of them and be trying to encircle them? They pressed on and entered a clearing just as a wild-eyed stag charged past, ignoring them totally. Elliot pushed the two knights into cover and led them away from the clearing. The dogs chasing the stag brought it down at the far side of the clearing and several huntsmen yelling in excitement rode into the glade. By the time that Jocelyn, transfixed by the sight of the stag at bay, had realised that the others had gone it was too late.

  ‘What do you think you are doing on my land?’ one of the huntsmen demanded. He was a young man with the arrogance of a noble addressing his inferiors but he was dressed in very plain clothes. Jocelyn had heard that King Henry was careless in his dress and rarely looked the part. This Scot appeared to be a knight or a lord but, if so, he seemed to have the same attitude to his attire as Henry Plantagenet. A further clue to his status was the expensive palfrey he rode, quite unlike the garrons that the Scots normally used. The man’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t look like the normal ragged wretches that try to poach in my demesne’.

  Jocelyn swallowed uncomfortably. ‘The Elwoods abducted my lord’s wife and I was in the party he was leading to rescue her from Larriston Tower. I was sent to lure the Elwoods away so that my lord could effect a rescue.’ He saw no reason to attract attention to the fact that there had been four of them.

  The Scots noble laughed. ‘Well, that’s the best tale I have heard for many a long day. If it is not true you should be a troubadour. Nevertheless I am Robert de Soulis and you are trespassing on my land and…’

  He ceased speaking as three men were tugged into the clearing by wolfhounds eager to tear their quarry to pieces. Five more men followed then halted and stared in dismay at the huntsmen and the men at arms. The men were having trouble controlling the dogs and one pulled free from his handler. Before the beast had gone more than a few yards one of the men-at-arms brought him down with a crossbow. The howl of rage from the Elwood men at the loss of a valuable hunting dog died away as the men-at-arms surrounded them, covering them with more crossbows.

  ‘Is it true that you are holding a nobly born lady in that hovel of a tower of yours?’ De Soulis demanded. The Elwood men shuffled their feet and looked at the ground. ‘Do you want me to hang you one by one until one of you tells me the truth?’

  Eventually one of them confessed that some men had captured Claire de Muschamp at the instigation of Robert de Roos and confirmed that he was paying them to hold her. De Roos had told them that he didn’t intend to ransom her but to force her husband to cede the manor of Wark to him.

  Jocelyn gasped at this revelation which drew Lord Robert’s attention back to him. ‘And who are you, lad’.

  ‘I am Jocelyn de Muschamp, squire to Lord Richard de Cuille and brother of his wife, the Lady Claire.’ The boy declared with some pride.

  ‘Are you now. Well, I suppose that I could hold you for ransom; you might fetch something I suppose, but I am more in need of a decent squire myself. Unlike in England, or indeed in Lothian, squires who are nobly born are in short supply here in Liddesdale. If you give me your parole that you won’t try and escape you may become my squire.’

  ‘And the alternative, my lord?’

  ‘Why, I have more need of a good squire that I do of more money so suppose I say that I will hand you over to these Elwoods, will that help make up your mind?’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Jocelyn was appalled that a Norman knight could contemplate handing one of his own kind over to men he regarded as savages.

  ‘Try me.’ De Soulis retorted nastily.

  So with a heavy heart Jocelyn agreed to give his parole. De Soulis let the Elwoods go with a warning that he would chop the right hand off the next man he found trespassing.

  Jocelyn thought that Hermitage Castle, de Soulis’s main base, was as depressing a place as he was ever likely to find. It consisted of a large timber keep with a single bailey enclosed by a palisade. It was surrounded by bleak moorland over which the wind whistled, even in summer. He was told with some glee by his fellow squires that in winter the bitter cold penetrated every part of the castle and braziers did little to keep it at bay. Below the castle lay Hermitage Water. The marshy area between it and the castle was a breeding ground for biting insects of every type. Jocelyn loathed the place from the moment he first set eyes on it.

  To make his life even more miserable he was the defenceless butt of every practical joke that the squires’ juvenile minds could dream up. As he scoured his master’s helm with sand to get the rust off Jocelyn’s deeply melancholic mood was interrupted by Lord Robert.

  ‘Hurry up and finish that, Jocelyn. We are expecting the king on the morrow for a few day’s hunting and I want all of my equipment looking like new and my horses curried until
they gleam.’

  Despite himself, Jocelyn was excited at the thought of seeing a king. He hadn’t seen anyone more senior than a baron before, not even an earl. The whole castle erupted into a flurry of activity to prepare for the royal visit and Jocelyn forgot his misery for a while.

  King William arrived with an entourage of over thirty lords, prelates and lairds and a sizeable escort. The cavalcade sprouted colourful banners and standards like a meadow full of wild flowers at the height of summer. Prominent amongst them was the rampant red lion on a field of yellow that William had adopted as his personal standard.

  There was little room for this host in the castle and most pitched pavilions and tents in the bailey or on the moorland area to the north of the castle, away from the marsh. The king and his servants of the bedchamber were accommodated in the keep. Robert de Soulis, his family and personal servants, together with the most important royal advisers, were lodged in the hall, a long wattle and daub building in the bailey. The rest of the castle’s normal inhabitants had to find accommodation elsewhere.

  As Lord Robert’s squire, Jocelyn normally slept across the door of his chamber and had the privilege of waiting on him at table. At supper later that day Lord Robert sat at the king’s right hand with the earl of Dunbar on his other side. Neither de Soulis nor the king were married and so there were no ladies present to act as a civilising influence. As the evening wore on King William and all around him got more and more inebriated. At one point Jocelyn went to pour wine into Lord Robert’s goblet just as he waved it in the air to emphasise a point. The wine missed and it splashed onto the table, some of it wetting the king’s hand. Jocelyn was mortified and expected to be rebuked or even beaten in front of everyone, including the other squires who would have never let him forget it.

  Instead the king laughed uproariously and thought it great sport that a squire should try to fill his host’s goblet whilst it was on the move. He insisted on Jocelyn trying again whilst Robert kept it moving. Very quickly Jocelyn got the hang of anticipating the goblet’s movements and every time he succeeded in getting some wine in the goblet the king applauded. After a while, the king waved his hand to signify that the game was over and he crocked a finger at the squire. ‘What’s your name, young man? You don’t look like one of those oafs that de Soulis normally has serve him.’

  ‘I’m Jocelyn de Muschamp, the son of the Baron of Wooler, sire’ Jocelyn replied, making an elegant bow.

  ‘’Are you now. And where did you get this sprig of the English nobility, Robert?’ William turned an enquiring eye towards his host.

  ‘I took him prisoner when he trespassed on my land, sire. I was more in need of a good squire than I was of the paltry ransom he would probably fetch as a younger son of a minor baron.’

  The king grunted. ‘And are you content here, Jocelyn. Come here where I can see you.’ Obediently Jocelyn went round to the other side of the high table so King William could study the tall eighteen year old with his well-groomed brown hair and finely chiselled features. Even Jocelyn’s overlarge mouth had become less noticeable as he grew older. In looks at least he compared very favourably with the freckled-faced, ginger-haired locals.

  ‘A good looking youth, Lord Robert. I wager he dislikes the rough life you lead here. I have a mind to take him into my own service. My senior squire is due knighting soon and this lad would fill the vacancy better than most.’

  Robert de Soulis started to splutter a protest but the king raised his hand. ‘Surely you would not deny me, Robert.’ Jocelyn noted that there was a twinkle of amusement in the king’s eyes as well as a hint of warning.

  ‘Well, er. . um. No, of course not sire.’ Robert recovered just in time before he made a serious error.

  ‘Good. I was going to reward your loyalty in any case so I think that what I am about to say will more than make up for your loss. I want you to become butler of Scotland.’ The butler was responsible for keeping the royal household supplied with wine and beer and there were plenty of opportunities for the butler to enrich himself in the process. Robert de Soulis was suitably grateful for both for the honour done him and for the wealth that would surely follow. He scarcely gave Jocelyn another thought.

  William had two good days hunting and was well satisfied with the haul of a dozen hinds, five boar and two magnificent stags.

  ‘The deer should keep you in meat for a while, eh Robert?’

  ‘Indeed sire. I am grateful to your skill as a huntsman.’

  ‘Don’t be so obsequious, Robert. It isn’t your character at all and I don’t like fawning. You must remember that if you want to stay as my butler.’ William gave his host a long, hard look before he smiled. ‘So I will see you at the muster at Berwick. Make sure that you bring the clansmen of Liddesdale with you.’ William turned and mounted his palfrey; one of those bred on Guy de Cuille’s estate at Craigmor.

  ‘They still don’t accept me as their liege lord I fear sire.’ De Soulis looked doubtful.

  ‘Just tell them that there will be plenty of plunder in England and you won’t be able to hold them back.’

  As the cavalcade swept out of Heritage Castle Jocelyn rode with the other royal squires leading a pack horse bearing the king’s armour, shield and lance with its ribbons in the royal colours of red and gold. His new companions were all the sons of nobles and greeted him kindly. Only the youngest seemed disappointed that the new royal squire was older than he was. He had hoped for a boy who would relieve him of the meanest chores. Life for Jocelyn was definitely looking up. He just wished he knew whether Richard had managed to rescue his sister and, if so, whether they had reached Otterburn safely.

  ~#~

  Richard still seethed with anger at Claire’s abduction and was determined to make Robert de Roos pay. He rode over to Carham with a large escort but he was too late; de Roos had already returned to his estates at Helmsley in Yorkshire. But Richard wasn’t going to give up that easily. He petitioned William de Vesci, as sheriff of Northumberland, for damages against Robert and cited the manor of Carham as suitable recompense. The hearing was set for the middle of June in Bamburgh Castle and a summons was sent to de Roos for him to appear to defend the action.

  However, Robert de Roos sent a messenger back to William de Vesci at Alnwick in May denying that he had anything to do with Claire’s abduction and stating that business connected with his estates in Yorkshire made it impossible for him to attend the hearing at Bamburgh.

  William decided to hear the case in de Roos absence and on a warm day without a cloud in the sky Richard and Claire rode over to Bamburgh with Turstin, now fully recovered, Warren, Elliot and the sergeant and the falconer who had been with Claire, all as witnesses. Several other cases were scheduled first and Richard had to curb his impatience. Claire sat impassively next to her husband on their bench and eventually told him to stop fidgeting. Relations between them had been a trifle cool since the rescue. Claire blamed Richard for allowing her brother to accompany him, however much he pointed out that Jocelyn had been left with the horses at Kielder in England. Although they still slept together the passion seemed to have gone out of their lovemaking.

  Once he had tackled her about it. ‘Look, I know how upset you are about Jocelyn but there’s not much I can do about it. Don’t let it ruin our lives.’

  It? He’s not an it, he’s my younger brother.’ She spat back at him, deliberately misunderstanding what he had said. ‘And there is something you can do about it. You can ask that cousin of yours at Berwick to find him.’

  In fact Richard had already spoken to Guy but Liddesdale was in Roxburghshire and outside his jurisdiction. The sheriff there was Archibald, lord of Douglas, with whom Guy didn’t have a good relationship. Guy had made many complaints to Archibald about men from his shire committing crimes in Berwickshire and they were always ignored. Richard had explained this to Claire but she either didn’t believe him or chose to think Guy was being intentionally unhelpful.

  When she was called Claire
gave a concise account of her abduction and subsequent rescue which Richard, Warren and Elliot confirmed in turn. It was unfortunate that the one person who could have testified that the Elwood men had said that de Roos was the instigator of the abduction was Jocelyn. The only man who had heard anything was one of Richard’s knights, the nearest of the three men who were hiding in the undergrowth. The wounded Turstin was sunk in his own misery and Elliot was crawling away from the clearing looking for a better hiding place.

  The knight gave evidence that he had heard the name Robert de Roos mentioned when the local Scots baron had questioned the Elwood men, but he wasn’t certain of the context. That wasn’t enough to fine or take other action against him so the case was dismissed. At least William had the grace to give his nephew an apologetic look when he delivered his judgement. Richard was furious but held his tongue. Claire, on the other hand, seemed indifferent. If it couldn’t bring Jocelyn back she wasn’t interested.

  Richard decided that, having failed to get his revenge using legitimate methods, he would use an illegitimate one and rode over to see his cousin Guy at Berwick. He explained his problem to Guy who asked him to leave it with him. After Richard had departed, leaving Guy a heavy purse to defray expenses, the latter sent for Robert of Locksley and asked if he had any men who might be prepared to resolve a delicate matter for him without asking too many questions. Robert returned later in the day and introduced him to two young brothers who, he explained, were particularly adept with throwing knives.

  ‘Is that the sort of skill you had in mind?’ he asked.

  Guy nodded. ‘Thank you Robert. You have been very helpful. I’ll take it from here and deal with them direct, including payment, if that’s alright with you?’

  ‘The less I know the better I suppose. I’ll give them leave of absence for a week. Will that be enough?’

  ‘It should be; perhaps ten days at most.’