Richard shot Henry a resentful glance. Could the old man make it any plainer how eager he was to believe Hal’s denials? “Hal has been conspiring with my vassals against me,” he said coldly, for he was determined to be matter-of-fact, not to let Hal bait him into losing his temper. “I do not know who was the instigator, whether he came to them with honeyed promises of a lenient lordship or whether they sought him out first. It does not really matter, does it? What does is that they have engaged in treason, scheming to depose me as Duke of Aquitaine and put Hal in my stead.”
Hal regarded him calmly. “Have you any proof of this, Richard?”
“Yes, I do have proof,” Richard said, with a smile like an unsheathed dagger. “I have a witness, one of the household knights of Viscount Aimar of Limoges. He is willing to testify that his lord met with you on numerous occasions, that you have been conspiring together to stir up a rebellion against me, and that you have involved others in your plot-including Joffroi de Lusignan, and those habitual rebels, the Taillefer brothers. So…deny it if you dare!”
After Richard accosted him in the chapel at Caen, Hal had been dreading this moment of reckoning. But now he found that he was actually enjoying himself, so confident was he of the stratagem he’d devised during those bleak days at the Christmas Court. “You are right, Papa. These are indeed serious charges, and I welcome the chance to respond to them. But not here. I want it done in public, before witnesses of unimpeachable probity, so that Richard cannot twist my words to suit his own ends.”
Hal stifled a smile, gratified by the startled reactions of his father and brother. Sounding highly skeptical, Richard demanded to know when this would take place, and Hal did grin openly then, thinking that if suspicions were fuel, Richard would be a flaming torch. “The sooner the better,” he said agreeably. “This afternoon, if it pleases you.”
“It pleases me,” Richard said grimly, and Henry looked from one to the other in utter dismay, singed by the heat of the hostility burning between them.
The castle’s Great Hall was the site for the drama Hal was about to stage. The royal family and the most honored of their guests had been ushered onto the dais. Henry was flanked by the Archbishops of Canterbury and Dublin. Geoffrey, Constance, Richard, Marguerite, Heinrich, and Tilda were seated nearby, and behind them stood Henry’s natural son and chancellor, Geoff, the Bishop of Le Mans, and several of Henry’s trusted advisors, including Willem and Maurice de Craon.
Catching Marguerite’s eye, Hal winked, and she smiled, if rather wanly. He was amused to see that his father and brothers had retreated behind their inscrutable court masks, a clear indication that they were curious and uneasy, unsure of his intentions. That was exactly how he wanted them to be-slightly off balance. He was sorry that he’d not been able to warn Geoffrey beforehand, but it could not be helped. Glancing about the hall, he let the suspense build until all eyes were upon him, and then he raised his hand for silence.
He felt that rush of excitement that he imagined a player must feel the first time he stepped onto a stage and took command; he’d always thought that acting must be great fun. “Those who wish me ill have been spreading rumors about my loyalties.” Ostensibly speaking to Henry, he was also playing to the audience, and many of them noticed that his eyes had lingered upon his brother Richard when he spoke of “those who wish me ill.” Richard certainly did, and his mouth set in a hard, thin line.
“These accusations are baseless,” Hal declared. “I would not have you harbor any doubts about that, sire.” Taking the cue, his chaplain came forward, knelt before him, and held out a book bound in fine calfskin, beautifully illuminated in gold leaf, borrowed that day from the Bishop of Le Mans. Putting his hand upon the book, Hal said solemnly, “I swear upon the Holy Gospels that my fidelity to you is as true and steadfast as my faith in Christ the Redeemer. I further vow that I will be loyal to you, my liege, for all the days of my life, and show you the honor and obedience due you as my father and my king.”
It was hard for Hal to read his father’s expression, but the scornful twist of Richard’s mouth needed no translation. Let him smirk; the hellspawn was about to get the surprise of his life. “I realize that oaths can be broken,” he continued, thinking that his father had broken more than his share of them. “But I want there to be perfect trust between us from now on, and to prove my sincerity, I shall be utterly honest with you, my lord father. My brother Richard has accused me of plotting with his liegemen against him. I do not deny it. I did indeed enter into a pact with the disaffected barons of Poitou and the Limousin.”
The stunned expression on Richard’s face was quickly followed by one of triumphant wariness. Geoffrey simply looked horrified. But Henry had blanched, like a man bleeding from an internal wound. Hal ignored the murmur sweeping through the audience, and kept his eyes upon his father’s face.
“I am sure that none here are surprised by the anger and resolve of the lord duke’s barons. They have chafed for years under his heavy-handed rule, charging that he tramples their cherished traditions into the dust, that he makes free with their women, and imposes his will by force and violence. How could I not sympathize with legitimate grievances like that? But it was not sympathy that drove me into this conspiracy. It was his treachery. He has fortified a castle at Clairvaux, which lies within the holdings of the Count of Anjou-and all know it. Can you imagine his outrage, my lord father, if I’d intruded into Poitou and dared to put up a castle in his domains? It was this threat to the sovereignty of Anjou that stirred me to action, for I would not willingly cede so much as a shovelful of Angevin dirt to the Duke of Aquitaine!”
There was so much commotion in the hall now that Hal had to raise his voice to be heard over the clamor. “My only regret is that I did not come to you first, my liege, as soon as I learned of his perfidy. I ask you now to take the castle at Clairvaux from my brother and keep it in your own hands, so that peace may be restored to our family.”
Hal was pleased with the outcome of his dramatic declaration, for all had gone as he’d expected. Richard was infuriated. Henry’s attention had been diverted from Hal’s wrongdoing to his brother’s encroachment into Anjou. He’d impressed people, particularly the clerics, by his willingness to swear upon the Holy Gospels. His own knights were inspired by his boldness, and Richard’s men were suddenly on the defensive. He did feel a prickle of remorse that Marguerite was so proud of his candor, knowing she believed that the conspiracy was now part of the past, but he assured himself that he’d make her understand when the time came.
The only surprise was that Geoffrey had not sought him out afterward for an explanation. He’d have liked to think that Geoffrey had instinctively understood what he was doing, but that unguarded, shocked expression on his brother’s face argued otherwise, and as the evening wore on, he went looking for the Breton duke, to no avail. It was only when he found Geoffrey’s squires, Jehan and Morgan, flirting in a window-seat with the castellan’s fetching daughter that he learned Geoffrey and Constance had departed some time ago.
Hal still marveled that his brother seemed to enjoy such a satisfying sex life with the prideful, sharp-tongued Constance, but he could imagine no other reason for their abrupt withdrawal from the hall. After bounding up the stairs to their private chamber, he made sure to knock loudly on the door and waited until he heard Geoffrey call out, “Enter.”
He was half expecting to find them in bed, but they were still fully dressed, seated together by the hearth. Smiling, he greeted his sister-in-law warmly before asking if he could borrow her husband for a brief time.
“You may speak freely in front of Constance.”
Hal blinked, for he could not imagine trusting Constance the way he trusted Marguerite. He had no real interest in his brother’s marriage, though. “As you will,” he said affably. “I thought you might have some questions for me.”
“Did you, indeed?” Geoffrey’s eyes had always been changeable, but now they were as grey as flint and just as welcoming. “Unfortunately, they’re questions I ought to have asked you last summer at Limoges. You were so busy instructing me how Richard and I would captain our arks that we never got around to discussing your own views on seamanship. A pity, for it would have been useful to know that you were a believer in lightening the load when you ran into rough waters. At the very least, it would have prepared me when you chose to push our allies over the side. I can only wonder why you did not throw me overboard, too-unless you’re saving me for a particularly severe storm.”
Hal was genuinely shocked by the accusation and, then, offended. “Jesus God, Geoff, I’d never do that! You’re my brother.”
“So is Richard,” Constance pointed out coolly, and Hal gave her the sort of vexed look that she was
