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Authors: Georgette Heyer
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must reach Falaise by morning. Will your beast hold up?’
‘Yes, lord,’ said Raoul stoutly, ‘as long as yours.’ He glanced behind him, over the heath they had crossed. ‘I hear nothing yet, beau sire.’
‘They will follow me hard,’ William said. ‘My fair cousin dare not let me slip through his fingers now.’
Raoul regarded him in awe. ‘Beau sire, did you know then, all the time?’
‘That my cousin of Burgundy would be pleased to see himself on my throne? Do you think me a fool, Raoul?’
‘Never that, lord, but you gave no sign, and when in my ignorance I sought to warn you, you seemed as though you did not care,’ Raoul said shyly.
‘Nor do I care,’ William answered. ‘Heart of God, have I lived Duke of Normandy for eleven years to be affrighted now by a parcel of rebels? Hark ye, Raoul de Harcourt! the first thing in life of which I have remembrance is of my uncle Walter carrying me by stealth from my palace at Vaudreuil to a poor hut in the forest, there to lie hid from mine enemies. Often has he taken me thus, for from my eighth year my subjects have conspired against me greatly. They put to death my guardian Thorkill, and they slew Count Gilbert, whom men called the Father of his Country. You have seen FitzOsbern, my Seneschal; his father, Osbern the son of Herfast, died in my service, slain at my door, and I a lad not yet in my teens. Spine of God, I have waded already through rivers of blood! I have learned to trust no man lightly, for those who should have defended me against the world have sought my death since the days of mine infancy.’ He broke off, and laughed sardonically. ‘Now it is Guy of the Soft Tongue who lifts up his head to strike a blow at the Bastard of Normandy! By my father’s soul, there shall be a bloody reckoning.’ He urged his horse to a gallop; the night wind stirred the curls of his uncovered head, and carried an end of his mantle streaming behind him in a dark cloud. He turned his head, and Raoul saw his teeth gleam in the starlight. ‘Stay by me, Raoul the Watcher. By the living God, you shall see this Normandy under my heel!’
Side by side the two destriers pounded along the track. ‘Ah, lord,’ Raoul said eagerly, ‘it was for this that I joined your service. I am your man, to my death and after, my hands between yours, my sword at your call!’
‘So be it!’ William said, and he stretched out his square hand.
The horses drew close, till Raoul’s knee brushed the Duke’s. Their hands met, and grasped hard. ‘Beau sire, crush this serpent of unrest, and let us have peace in Normandy!’
‘I will have war before I have peace,’ William said. ‘Splendour of God, it is time and more that this virgin sword of mine was fleshed! Hark ye, in a day, in a week, Normandy will be up and in arms against me. I can count upon this hand the men I know I may trust.’ His voice grated, and Raoul felt rather than saw his frown. ‘Falaise first, and then to France.’
Raoul said aghast: ‘To France, lord?’
‘Yea, to Henry my suzerain, to demand his aid.’
Memories of old sores crossed Raoul’s mind. ‘Seigneur, will you trust the French King?’
‘He is my suzerain,’ William said curtly. ‘He dare not refuse me.’
They rode on, slackening the pace again as they plunged into the murk of a forest.
‘Who stands for you, lord?’ Raoul asked.
‘I shall see in a little space,’ William answered, with a kind of grim humour. ‘Of this western Normandy, perhaps none. Of Caux, and the Roumois, of Evrecin and Ouche, all the land east of the Dives, many.’ His horse stumbled over a tree-root, but was held together by a rigid hand. ‘I have had few friends in my life. My cousin of Eu stands faithful. They say he swore allegiance to me as I lay in my cradle. There is Roger de Beaumont, old Hugh de Gournay, De Montfort, whom you know. I have two uncles, half-brothers to my father: shall I trust them? Yea, while I can hold them in mine eye. In my
‘Yes, lord,’ said Raoul stoutly, ‘as long as yours.’ He glanced behind him, over the heath they had crossed. ‘I hear nothing yet, beau sire.’
‘They will follow me hard,’ William said. ‘My fair cousin dare not let me slip through his fingers now.’
Raoul regarded him in awe. ‘Beau sire, did you know then, all the time?’
‘That my cousin of Burgundy would be pleased to see himself on my throne? Do you think me a fool, Raoul?’
‘Never that, lord, but you gave no sign, and when in my ignorance I sought to warn you, you seemed as though you did not care,’ Raoul said shyly.
‘Nor do I care,’ William answered. ‘Heart of God, have I lived Duke of Normandy for eleven years to be affrighted now by a parcel of rebels? Hark ye, Raoul de Harcourt! the first thing in life of which I have remembrance is of my uncle Walter carrying me by stealth from my palace at Vaudreuil to a poor hut in the forest, there to lie hid from mine enemies. Often has he taken me thus, for from my eighth year my subjects have conspired against me greatly. They put to death my guardian Thorkill, and they slew Count Gilbert, whom men called the Father of his Country. You have seen FitzOsbern, my Seneschal; his father, Osbern the son of Herfast, died in my service, slain at my door, and I a lad not yet in my teens. Spine of God, I have waded already through rivers of blood! I have learned to trust no man lightly, for those who should have defended me against the world have sought my death since the days of mine infancy.’ He broke off, and laughed sardonically. ‘Now it is Guy of the Soft Tongue who lifts up his head to strike a blow at the Bastard of Normandy! By my father’s soul, there shall be a bloody reckoning.’ He urged his horse to a gallop; the night wind stirred the curls of his uncovered head, and carried an end of his mantle streaming behind him in a dark cloud. He turned his head, and Raoul saw his teeth gleam in the starlight. ‘Stay by me, Raoul the Watcher. By the living God, you shall see this Normandy under my heel!’
Side by side the two destriers pounded along the track. ‘Ah, lord,’ Raoul said eagerly, ‘it was for this that I joined your service. I am your man, to my death and after, my hands between yours, my sword at your call!’
‘So be it!’ William said, and he stretched out his square hand.
The horses drew close, till Raoul’s knee brushed the Duke’s. Their hands met, and grasped hard. ‘Beau sire, crush this serpent of unrest, and let us have peace in Normandy!’
‘I will have war before I have peace,’ William said. ‘Splendour of God, it is time and more that this virgin sword of mine was fleshed! Hark ye, in a day, in a week, Normandy will be up and in arms against me. I can count upon this hand the men I know I may trust.’ His voice grated, and Raoul felt rather than saw his frown. ‘Falaise first, and then to France.’
Raoul said aghast: ‘To France, lord?’
‘Yea, to Henry my suzerain, to demand his aid.’
Memories of old sores crossed Raoul’s mind. ‘Seigneur, will you trust the French King?’
‘He is my suzerain,’ William said curtly. ‘He dare not refuse me.’
They rode on, slackening the pace again as they plunged into the murk of a forest.
‘Who stands for you, lord?’ Raoul asked.
‘I shall see in a little space,’ William answered, with a kind of grim humour. ‘Of this western Normandy, perhaps none. Of Caux, and the Roumois, of Evrecin and Ouche, all the land east of the Dives, many.’ His horse stumbled over a tree-root, but was held together by a rigid hand. ‘I have had few friends in my life. My cousin of Eu stands faithful. They say he swore allegiance to me as I lay in my cradle. There is Roger de Beaumont, old Hugh de Gournay, De Montfort, whom you know. I have two uncles, half-brothers to my father: shall I trust them? Yea, while I can hold them in mine eye. In my
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