the rooms in his quest for clues while the others watched. They were still there when the servant began pounding on the door and shouting once more for Sir William.
Sir Robert watched his brother with a dry, humorless smile. He had heard of the row of the night before, and was amused to see how it had affected his brother. John stood apart, not wanting to talk to the men-at-arms who helped Robert to his horse, or to the men who climbed on to their own horses to join in the hunt. He waited like a sulking child at the periphery of all the noise as the men prepared.
There was still an all-encompassing smell of burned wood and straw from the stable, and it was partly this which had persuaded Robert to go and search for food. He had no desire to wait in the fort and supervise the men clearing up. After the night before he knew that John would prefer to be leaving the Manor for the morning too, and that gave him cause for a certain sadistic pleasure, knowing he could not go. On a whim he walked his horse over to where his brother stood.
“Come, brother. Why don’t you join us?” John looked up, and Robert saw the despair in his eyes. It made him regret his sarcastic, bantering query, to see his brother so smothered by fears. When he spoke again his voice was softer. “John? Are you all right? Would you like me to stay with you? The men can go alone, if you want to talk.”
“To you?” For a moment all Robert could see was the surprise, and he gave a twisted smile. It did sound odd. For the last few weeks they had quarrelled incessantly, neither wanting to approach too close to the other. Their ideas were too different, their motives, their interests, their very souls, were worlds apart. Each time they came together they sparked, like flint and steel. But it left Robert with a hole he could feel in his heart. He wanted a brother he could call his friend, a man to whom he could talk, with whom he could discuss his anxieties and his hopes, a man he could speak to of his love for Alicia, and who would understand and give encouragement. It was more than that: he needed somebody he could trust wholeheartedly, a man he could rely on, especially now he was to become master of Beauscyr. And especially since the death of Bruther. He leaned forward in his saddle, so that his head was close to his brother’s, and no one else could hear his words.
“Look, John, if you want me to, I’ll stay here to speak to you. You’ll be going soon, I know, and I don’t want you to leave with any bad feelings.” An air of uncertainty crept into his brother’s face and John peered up at him, biting his lip. It emboldened Robert. “When Father is dead and I am master here, you’ll always be welcome to visit, and…”
The spell was broken. With those few words, John lost his indecision. A sneer twisted his features into a grimace of disgust and he took a half-step backward. “So you can feel generous to me, you mean? So you can allow me the scrapings from your table, like an old man begging alms at your door?” Robert wanted to cry out, to stop the flow of spite and jealousy, but the words stuck in his throat. “How kind, brother. How very kind! So you will let me come back here every now and then to see how well you are: how profitable your estate is; how plentiful your children are. I fear, brother, that I might not be able to. I fear that I might prefer to stay in Italy. A jail there would please me more than to see you living here happily, and as far as I am concerned, once our father is dead, I will have no wish to see you or the estate ever again. So thank you, brother. I hope you enjoy your hunt.” And break your damned neck! he added inwardly.
Robert stared, all color drained from his face. As though carved from marble, he sat rigid and unmoving on his horse, and only then did John see that there was no pride in his attitude, only hurt rejection. Then John ached to take his words back, to try to explain… but it was too late. The damage was done.
His spine stiff and straight, Robert kicked his horse into a canter and swept through the first, then the second gate, out to the open moors beyond. It would not do to let the rest of the hunting party guess at his torment. Up in front was the rising land, a broad expanse topped by a small clump of trees, toward which he headed, the hooves of his followers’ horses pounding behind him. There was a thick lump of despair in his chest. He could hardly think coherently, for every thought led him back to John and the terrible contempt in his younger brother’s eyes.
That was why the ambush was such a dramatic success.
20
George Harang watched the men approaching with a feeling akin to panic. If only there hadn’t been that fire, he thought. The Manor would not have been awake so early, they would all still have been at their breakfasts, not up and active – and it was far too early to send out a party to hunt. He slapped a fist into his cupped hand. The preparations were not even half-completed.
And yet the men were coming on, as if they had not seen his group of miners lying in wait. It was a strong force of men-at-arms, one man out in front ignoring the others, riding as stiff as a board of wood, apparently uncaring whether his guards could keep up with him or not.
Harang quickly assessed the chances of success, and then signalled urgently to the man next to him and gave his instructions.
If only John had not been so quick to take offense, Robert lamented as he lashed his horse up the slope. Why should he be so swift to anger just because the older of the two was to inherit the estate? It was the natural way of things, not some curious new injustice.
He clenched his jaw resolutely. There had been no need for John to spurn his attempt at reconciliation, it had been offered in all sincerity. And yet the jeering withdrawal of his brother had made it clear that there could be no friendship between them. But despite his own anger, Robert could still feel the prickle behind his eyes.
Then he saw the figure of a man standing up on the skyline before him, waving his arms urgently. Robert set spurs to his horse and increased his speed. At least someone wants my help, he thought, a bitter grin twisting his lips.
As he came closer, he saw that the man was familiar. The body stocky and trim, the legs short, the trunk thick like an oak tree. It was George Harang.
“Now!” bellowed George.
Suddenly the ground was full of miners. A group appeared in front of him, and as he whirled, Robert saw that he was surrounded. More were behind, some facing him with smiles of disdain at his stupidity while others turned back toward his men, fitting arrows to bows. Robert stared, stunned. The blood pounded in his veins, thundering at his temples like the steady beat of a warhorse at full gallop, and he felt a chill creep over him.
George walked down toward him, laughing loudly, issuing orders and keeping a wary eye on the members of the hunting party. “Tie him up!”
“Sir William, Sir William!” The pounding on the door sounded as though it was going to shatter the timbers to dust, and the old knight lifted his eyes to it with resignation. Was there never any peace, he wondered. Irritably he walked to the door and tugged it wide.
“What the devil is…”
“Sir William, it’s the miners. They’ve come and they’ve captured your son – we saw them from the walls, sir. They…”
Baldwin and Simon raced up and listened at either side of the old knight as the messenger stuttered and stammered, his pale, round face wrinkled and anxious, reminding Baldwin of his old mastiff, who was no doubt lying comfortably in front of his fire at Furnshill. Shaking the idea from his head, he caught the end of the message: “And they took him, knocked him from his horse, and…”
Baldwin grasped him by the shoulder. The man had graying hair and black, misshapen teeth in a revolting, slack mouth. Blue eyes stared back, the terror in them plain to see. Gradually he calmed under the serious stare of the knight’s dark brown eyes. “Good, now, start again. You say that your master’s son has been taken. Which one?”
“Sir Robert, sir,” the man gulped.
“And he was taken by miners?”
“Yes, sir. The men at the gate saw it. There was George Harang and others, and they caught Sir Robert just
