The Bastard's Crown Page 6

  To his initial delight and then his horror he caught sight of his wife, Alice de Mortree, and her father sitting on the benches behind the dais on which sat the constable of Alencon and his scrivener. He couldn’t bear for her to see him like this. The look of pity on her face just made it worse.

  ‘Robert of Solesmes’ the scrivener began ‘you are charged with...

  ‘My name is Sir Robert de Cuille.’ He was pleased with the strength of his voice as he cut across what Anselm was saying. ‘And I demand to be tried as a knight.’

  ‘You lost the right to call yourself that when you turned traitor.’ Robert turned to face a figure he hadn’t noticed before on the benches near his family. Of course, Drogo de Ballon would be there to give evidence about the theft of his palfrey.

  ‘I have ever been loyal to Herbert Basso, count of Maine, and his father before him. How then do you call me traitor?’

  ‘Silence’ roared the constable, trying to restore some order to his court room. ‘Count Geoffrey Martel is the lord of Maine and his deputy is Geoffrey de Mayenne, who you tried to kill.’

  ‘Aren’t we here to establish the truth or otherwise of the charges’ Robert replied quietly ‘or have you already made up your mind?’

  ‘I think I would take the word of my overlord before that of a traitor’ retorted the constable nastily.

  ‘I think it is you who is the traitor, sir. I will not answer to any name but my own and I demand trial by combat, as is my right as a knight.’ Robert glared defiantly at the constable.

  ‘Silence I say. Gag the prisoner.’ As a man at arms stepped forward with an iron contraption called a scold’s bridle to put around Robert’s head his father-in-law spoke for the first time.

  ‘And how is Sir Robert to speak in his defence if he is gagged?’

  The constable glared at the speaker. ‘You are a Norman and have no voice here.’

  ‘I think it is normal to address a baron and one of the largest land owners hereabouts as my lord?’ Courtney de Mortree said quietly but with a certain hint of warning in his voice.

  ‘I beg pardon my lord; nevertheless I would ask you to be quiet.’ The constable turned to his scrivener ‘can you confirm that this man was a novice monk at Solesmes when you were sub prior there and that he absconded in defiance of the terms under which he surrendered Cuille to Sir Guy de Vihiers, the lord of that manor.

  ‘I can’ Anselm nodded with a satisfied smile on his face. The constable turned to Drogo de Ballon.

  ‘And can you, Sir Drogo, confirm that this man stole a palfrey from you?’

  ‘I most certainly can. The damned thief was still riding it when he was apprehended here in Alencon.’

  ‘I have here a sworn statement from Lord Geoffrey de Mayenne in which he says that a man riding a palfrey with the de Ballon badge on the saddlecloth aimed a crossbow at him but thankfully missed and hit his horse instead, killing it instantly.’ He turned to Robert. ‘Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence.’

  ‘Don’t you mean judgement?’ murmured Lord Courtney quietly; ‘and Sir Robert still has that dreadful contraption on his head.’ The constable gestured irritably for the guard to remove the scold’s bridle.

  ‘I am the rightful lord of Cuille and answer only to the count of Maine and my overlord the baron of Leval. I don’t see him here today. I don’t deny leaving Solesmes which, as a novice, I had every right to do. I had given no oath to remain; my son was supposedly being held hostage but I now know he is safe in Normandy, so there was no reason for me to tarry there. I do admit to taking the palfrey, which has since been returned to Sir Drogo, and I am willing to pay for its hire. If I had wanted to kill Geoffrey de Mayenne I would have done so. I intended to kill his horse and, again, I am willing to make financial recompense.’ He glared defiantly at the constable as some sections of the crowd applauded his statement. He had no doubt that some were his father-in-law’s men but many others in Alencon hated the Angevins and their toadies.

  ‘Silence.’ The constable was now getting quite irate. ‘Silence I say. You stand condemned out of your own mouth. I sentence you to..’

  ‘Before you say something you will later regret I wish to make an observation or two.’ Courtney stood and turned to address the mass of people in the hall. ‘This has been a travesty of a trial.’ He turned to the constable. ‘I warn you that, should any harm come to my son-in-law, the same fate will befall you when you are tried before me.’ A puzzled look crossed the constable’s face.

  ‘You may not have heard yet but Geoffrey Martel is dead.’ He paused, looking around the room at the shocked faces of the Angevins and their supporters. ‘Unless Sir Robert is released into my charge I will take his continued imprisonment – or worse - as an act of war and it will give me, and my overlord the duke of Normandy, a perfect reason to invade in support of Herbert Basso as count of Maine. In that case Alencon would be the first town in our path.’ He sat down.

  The silence dragged on until Sir Drogo recovered and leaped to his feet.

  ‘No, I don’t believe it. It’s a trick. That man stole my best palfrey and I demand his head.’

  The constable eventually reached a decision and told the guards to take Robert back to his cell whilst he considered the matter.

  ‘My lord’ he began carefully. ‘I don’t doubt what you say but you may have been deceived by a rumour. I will need to ascertain the truth. In the meantime Sir Robert remains in my custody.’

  Lord Courtney was about to protest but he had noted that the constable had accorded his son-in-law his correct title and eventually nodded. He turned to reassure his daughter who was alarmed at seeing her husband dragged away again. He turned back to the constable.

  ‘You have until dusk tonight to decide. I’ll not have Sir Robert spend another night in chains.’

  ~#~

  It had taken Hugo a month before the bone started to mend and he could do light tasks. Two weeks later Rollo came and told him that he was fit enough to start work as a ploughboy. The splints and bandage were removed and Hugo flexed his fingers. He was relieved that his forearm had mended well, though the muscles were wasted and he could hardly lift anything.

  ‘So long as you can harness the oxen and wield a whip you’re strong enough to start earning your living’ Rollo said giving Hugo a kick to get him moving.

  A boy of about twelve with a face full of sores who never stopped snivelling showed Hugo what to do and then he was left to get on with it. He was expected to plough an acre a day, whatever the weather, and then feed the oxen and clear the muck out their stall. No longer was he allowed to live with the old crone so he was forced to bed down with the oxen. The smell was overpowering and he was afraid of being trampled on but at least he was warm and dry.

  He fed on whatever scraps of food he could scrounge. Other ploughboys and the ploughmen lived with their families and were paid for ploughing fields over and above their quota. Hugo couldn’t even plough half the area he was expected to each day so he got nothing. As time went on he grew thinner but the hard work made him fit and his right arm was soon as strong as ever.

  He tried not to think about his past life as it made him so depressed that he wanted to kill himself. What stopped him was the thought of revenge on Rollo and his family. They took every opportunity to kick him and beat him and his body was soon covered in welts and bruises.

  Bondsmen didn’t wash so he soon stank more than the oxen. He hated this but had little option but get used to it. He wasn’t allowed to use a privy so he had to squat in a corner of the stall and clear his muck out with that of the oxen.

  On his seventeenth birthday he allowed himself to think about his parents and Gilbert. He groaned in despair. Even if they were seeking him, what chance did they have of finding a bondsman called Sigmund on a small manor tucked away miles from anywhere?

  ~#~

  Sir Guillaume had tried for some time to try and find out what had happened to Hugo. The only clue seemed to be a glimpse t
hat Gilbert had of one of the attackers he had struggled with before he had been knocked out. He was wearing a hood and it was dark in the alley but he had seen that the man was quite young but seemed to have few teeth. It wasn’t much to go on though.

  After a month Guillaume had been persuaded to take on a new squire, the fourteen year old son of one of his father’s tenants called Edmund. His father held five manors from the viscount and Ranulph privately thought that he was a more suitable choice than the son of a dispossessed knight from Maine. Edmund was a good squire but Guillaume missed Hugo and his ready wit; and he hadn’t forgotten that the lad had helped to save his life.

  He was at the training ground honing his swordsmanship against one of the instructors when a page came to find him. ‘Sir Guillaume.’ The ten year-old squeaked excitedly ‘the constable has sent for you. Sir Robert de Cuille and his wife, the lady Alice, have arrived and wish to speak to you.’

  As soon as Guillaume entered the constable’s chambers he could see where Hugo got his good looks from. He looked very much like his father but with his mother’s nose and eyes. Gilbert was also present and the clerk was talking animatedly to Sir Robert.

  After introductions they discussed what might have happened to Hugo. Rollo might well have been the perpetrator of his abduction but to what end? If he had wanted to kill Hugo why not do it there and then? Then Guillaume suddenly thought of Tristan. Twenty minutes later a page ushered the squire into the room.

  ‘Tristan, this is Sir Robert de Cuille and Lady Alice, Hugo’s parents’ Guillaume began ‘you knew Rollo as well as anyone still here at Caen. Can you think of why he might want to abduct Hugo instead of killing him in revenge?’

  Tristan thought for a moment. ‘Well Sir Guillaume, Rollo liked to torment people. A sudden act of vengeance wouldn’t have satisfied him, I don’t think. He probably wanted to torture him and over a long period.’ The youth tailed off as Lady Alice gasped and burst into tears. Once Robert had managed to comfort her and she had retired to the solar with the constable’s wife, he turned back to Tristan.

  ‘Where do we find this Rollo?’

  ‘His father is Sir Tormod. He has a small manor at St Laurent on the coast near Bayeux. He is a tenant of Bishop Odo.’

  ‘Right. If it is on the coast we can reach it by sea at night with small risk of detection’ Robert said determinedly. ‘Who’s wants to come with me?’

  In the end it was agreed that Robert, Guillaume, Tristan and the knight he served, Sir Miles Peverel, a second cousin of Guillaume’s, would hire a boat from Cabourg and sail the 30 miles up the coast to arrive after dark.

  ~#~

  Hugo lay asleep in a corner of the barn with a panel of interwoven sticks he had made to protect him from the oxen. He was no longer manacled but he had no idea where he was, and was too intimidated by months of harsh treatment to make a run for it in any case. Suddenly he woke up as Rollo threw the panel aside and kicked him hard in the ribs.

  ‘Our lookout has just reported seeing four men landing from a boat. You don’t think they would be looking for you, do you?’ he whispered hoarsely. He gave Hugo another vicious kick, who curled into a ball.

  ‘You had better pray that they’re not. On second thoughts, although I have enjoyed watching you suffer as a ploughboy, even that palls after a while. It is probably about time to kill you anyway.’ He pulled his dagger out and bent down to cut Hugo’s throat.

  Hugo always slept with his the whip he used to drive the oxen by his side, just in case he was in danger of being trampled and had to beat them away. The whip was buried on the straw but Hugo’s fingers quickly found it. Before Rollo could use his dagger Hugo hit him hard in the face with the handle. Rollo blundered about clutching his bleeding nose. Hugo sprang to his feet and the whip lashed out, curling around Rollo’s head, cutting into the back of his hands and causing his ears to sting intolerably. Rollo yelled in agony and lashed out blindly with his dagger. Hugo climbed over the side of the stall to get away from the madly stabbing man and ran out of the barn.

  After he had run for a few moments he stopped and tried to calm down. If Rollo caught him he would be dead for certain. He remembered that he had said something about some men on the beach coming to rescue him so Hugo headed off in that direction.

  ~#~

  Robert and the others made their way through the dunes oblivious to the lookout post off to their left. As they reached the first of the fields they spotted the village half a mile away. The only lights showing were through the shuttered windows of two cottages and from the doorway of the wooden hall house which lay in the centre of the village. They had nearly reached the outskirts when they saw a youth a hundred yards away running towards the beach that they had just come from.

  ‘Do you think they know we are here?’ whispered Sir Miles.

  ‘If they did they wouldn’t just send one man’ Robert answered, beckoning them onwards. As they reached the first cottage Robert gestured for Miles and Tristan to stay outside on watch. Robert opened the door and he and Guillaume quickly stepped inside, closing it behind them. The family inside looked round in alarm and a girl went to scream.

  Robert put his finger to his lips and said quickly ‘we mean you no harm.’

  ‘Who are you? What do you want with us?’ The middle aged man near the fire stood up and moved protectively in front of his wife and children.

  ‘My son, Hugo, was abducted nearly a year ago by Rollo St. Laurent and another man. We think he may have been brought here. He would be just seventeen now. Do you know if Rollo brought anyone like that here about then?’ Robert looked at the man hopefully.

  ‘That’s when Sigmund…’ a boy of about nine started to say.

  ‘Shut your mouth.’ His father rounded on him and cuffed him hard on the head. Robert grimaced and drew his sword.

  ‘So he was brought here but you are too frightened to say so. Well, let me assure you need to be just as frightened of me as you are of Tormod and Rollo. The friend of my enemy is my enemy, as the saying goes.’ He placed the point of his sword under the man’s chin and drew a trickle of blood. Guillaume stood by not quite sure of what to do. He had only known Robert a short time and wasn’t certain how ruthless he could be. Perhaps this was just a ruse to get information but he wasn’t prepared to let the man be killed in cold blood in front of his family. In the event his dilemma was solved for him.

  ‘Wait, don’t hurt him.’ The woman was in tears and so frightened that she gabbled. ‘A boy called Sigmund was brought here about ten months ago. I heard he claimed that his real name was Hugo but no-one believed him. We were told that he was a runaway ploughboy, though he didn’t seem to know much about ploughing at first.’

  ‘You fool woman! Tormod will kill us for sure when he finds out what you have said.’ The man’s shoulders sagged, his face etched with worry.

  ‘I don’t think you need to worry about him. Leave him to us’ Robert told him grimly. ‘Now where do I find my son?’

  ‘He sleeps with the oxen in the barn’ offered the boy. Robert shuddered and wondered what Hugo had been put through.

  ‘Show us the way.’ The boy took them outside and pointed.

  Suddenly Miles thought of something. ‘Wait, are there any men-at-arms here?’ The boy shook his head. ‘Just Sir Tormod and his sons. There isn’t even a squire, apart from Rollo.’

  When they reached the barn they found Sir Tormod and his two sons, Quincey and Rollo facing them. Quincey had a crossbow which he pointed straight at Robert. He grinned wolfishly, revealing a mouth with few teeth.

  ‘That’s far enough. Who are you and what do you want.’

  ‘I am Robert de Cuille and I’ve come for my son.’

  The older man, who Robert took to be Tormod, laughed.

  ‘Well you are too late. Rollo has just killed him.’ With a roar Robert drew his sword and made for Tormod. Before Quincy could fire his crossbow an arrow took him in the centre of his chest and he fell backwards, dropping the weapon.
Guillaume looked round in surprise to see Tristan notching another arrow to his bow.

  ‘No, boy. That was a good shot but leave it to us now.’

  He drew his sword and he and Miles cornered Rollo whilst Robert fought with Tormod. The latter was heavily built and more powerful than Robert but he didn’t have his skill. It wasn’t long before Robert had sent Tormod’s sword spinning out of his hand. He relaxed expecting Rollo’s father to yield but the man pulled out his dagger and lunged at the unprepared Robert. Guillaume had disarmed Rollo and Miles was holding him at sword point. Guillaume turned just in time to see Tormod’s lunge and stabbed out with his sword, more in reaction than anything else. The blade went through the side of his leather jerkin and slid between his ribs to penetrate the heart. Tormod was dead before he hit the ground.

  ‘That’s unfortunate.’ Guillaume wiped his sword clean and sheathed it. ‘I don’t suppose that Odo of Bayeux will be overjoyed at having one of his tenants slain.’ He glanced at Miles. ‘Tie up that piece of offal and bring him with us.’

  Robert searched the barn but found nothing. His heart sank. What had happened to Hugo? Then he recalled the youth heading for the beach. He hadn’t recognised his gait or anything else but then it was nearly four years since he had last seen him.

  Hugo was hiding in the scrub on top of a dune wondering what to do next when he saw the party coming back. As he watched the moon came out from behind a cloud and he recognised his father, Guillaume and Tristan. One of the men was bound and he smiled in satisfaction when he saw Rollo’s scarred face. He ran so fast down the dune that he nearly fell over as he sped towards them.

  When he woke the next day Guillaume was faced with a dilemma. Edmund had been his squire for nearly a year now but Hugo would naturally expect to return to the position he had held before he was abducted. It was also important that everything was done to settle Hugo back into his old life so that both his mind and body could heal after the torment meted out to him by Rollo and his family. He couldn’t afford two squires and, in any case, it would seem arrogant; only the great magnates had more than one squire.