brother had discovered how Hubert had shamed and threatened her. “I know they didn’t like him,” she went on bravely, trying to convince herself as much as her cousin, “but Hubert was not liked by many people. That is not a reason to do him harm.”
Hugo took his cousin’s hand and held it. “Alain knew what Hubert had done to you, Alys. Hubert taunted him with it, daring Alain to challenge him, saying that if he did he would tell all the world you are unchaste. There was nothing Alain could do, except…except…”
“Murder him?” Alys said tearfully. “Oh, Hugo, Alain would never do such a thing. It is dishonourable, treacherous. I don’t believe it. And even if I did, it would have been unnecessary. Hubert tried to force me to bed with him, but I did not. There was no truth in his cruel taunts.”
“But Alain would not have known that Hubert was lying,” Hugo replied. “Not unless he asked you. And he would never have done that. It would have implied he thought you welcomed Hubert’s attentions.”
“I still don’t believe that Alain would commit secret murder, Hugo. I cannot.”
“I don’t want to either, Alys,” her cousin replied, his despondence deepening. “But before the Templar came to question us, Alain told all the other squires and the pages that we were not to volunteer any information, that we were to protect each other. What else could he have meant except that we were to lie for him?”
This revelation shocked Alys, convincing her more than the fact that Hugo had witnessed Alain and Renault’s absence from the hall that her brother had something to hide. Alain had always been an honest person, valuing truth and loyalty above all else. Only a terrible secret would make him veer from such a path. Were her fears that her brother had killed Hubert now to be proved true?
There had been no words she could find to console Hugo. They had sat together in silent commiseration until disturbed by one of the kitchen maids come to pick some of the mint that Hugo was mindlessly shredding between his fingers. As she sat in the chamber, Alys thought that always, ever after, she would associate the smell of mint with death.
Sixteen
Gerard and Nicolaa’s son,Richard, arrived home that night just as the company seated in the hall had finished listening to a troubadour that Nicolaa had hired to play for the king during his visit. The minstrel was a woman, not so uncommon an occurrence as it had once been before Queen Eleanor had ascended the throne and given her patronage to anyone, male or female, who had the ability to compose and sing well. The troubadour’s name was Helena, and she was from Portugal. Not only was she an accomplished jongleur, she was young and beautiful. Seated on a stool before her audience, she had just plucked the last notes of a soulful melody from her lute when the door of the hall was flung open and Richard and two other people came hurriedly in, all appearing tired and dishevelled.
“Richard!” Nicolaa de la Haye, with an unaccustomed loss of composure, stood up from her chair and gazed in surprise at her son. Gerard Camville pushed his chair back, rising swiftly and with an alacrity that belied his girth.
“All is well, Mother,” Richard Camville called out as he came into the hall and made his way through the throng of people to the table on the dais where his parents sat, the young man and woman who were with him following close behind. The heir to the castellanship had his father’s broad shoulders and heavy thighs, but he was taller and more loose-limbed. The red hair that marked him as a Haye shone like a flaming beacon when he pushed back the hood of his cloak. “I have been sent by the king to tell you of his progress and on what day he will arrive,” Richard said when he reached them. “King John bids me convey to you his warmest affections and tell you he will be in Lincoln in three days’ time. I have left the squires and pages of our household in his care and they will return with the royal party.”
He then introduced his companions. “This is Godfroi de Tournay and his sister, Marie. But before I explain why they are with me, we need food and drink. We are all chilled to the bone and our hunger would put a starving man to shame.”
Nicolaa signalled to a servant and mulled wine was brought, as well as a huge platter of cold meat, bread and cheese. Room was made at the high table for the three newcomers and they gratefully slaked their thirst before helping themselves to the food.
As he ate, breaking off chunks of white crumbly cheese and devouring it with mouthfuls of cold venison, Richard explained that King John had wanted to send his parents a personal message and had entrusted it to him. “I also have a letter from the king in which he asks you to inform him if it seems that he will arrive before William of Scotland.” Richard looked up and smiled, his strong white teeth flashing as he did so. “He is most anxious not to seem too eager, and would rather that Scotland waits on England’s pleasure than the other way around.”
Nicolaa nodded. “He has nothing to fear. King William is but one day’s journey from Torksey. A messenger from the Scottish entourage arrived this morning.”
She looked around at the others seated on the dais, all of whom were straining their ears to hear what Richard had to say; some openly, others more surreptitiously. Beside her husband, his brother leaned in a nonchalant pose, and beyond him Richard de Humez listened quietly, attempting to seem preoccupied with his cup of wine. On her other side, her niece Alinor openly showed her interest while Alys, beside her, looked only at her brother and Renault, who stood in attendance behind the Camville brothers.
Nicolaa decided it would be wise to defer any more discussions of the king until there were not so many listening ears. She swerved from the subject by asking, “And your companions, Richard? Have they, too, brought messages from the king?”
Richard became more solemn. “No, mother, they have not. Godfroi was with me in the king’s camp and, it is true, came with me to bring King John’s letter, but that was only until we came to Boston.”
Now Godfroi leaned forward and spoke to Richard’s parents. He was tall and compactly built, with short black hair and a clean-shaven chin. His eyes were as dark as his hair. There was a look of intensity about him that was enhanced by the grimness of his tone. “Richard and I decided to break our journey at Boston where my elder brother, Ralph, has his manor house. There we learned, from my sister, that a member of our family had died. In short, lady, Marie and I were half brother and half sister to Hubert, whose body I believe his uncle, Joscelin de Vetry, has come to take home.”
His sister now spoke up. “His mother is distraught, Lady Nicolaa. She lives with us still, preferring Ralph’s protection to that of her own family. When the news of Hubert’s death came, both Ralph and Godfroi were away and only de Vetry remained to come for my half brother’s body and bring it back to her. When Godfroi arrived she begged him to let me accompany him to Lincoln so that her son might have a woman’s tender care on the last journey he will make on this earth.”
Nicolaa gave the girl a searching glance. “You were fond of Hubert, then?”
The girl did not drop her gaze. “No, lady. Not especially so. But I do care for his mother and Hubert was, after all, a son of my own father’s loins. It is my duty to comply with my stepmother’s wishes.”
Nicolaa nodded and spoke to her husband. Gerard Camville had stayed silent throughout this exchange, leaning back in his chair and listening with watchful eyes. Musicians with rebec and viol were playing quietly at the back of the hall and the company, after the initial excitement of Richard’s arrival, had resumed conversing with each other and holding up their goblets for scurrying servitors to refill.
“I think, Gerard, this matter would be best discussed privily, do you not agree? Afterwards, Richard can give us the king’s messages.”
Camville grunted and rose to his feet. He was by nature a taciturn man, and an indolent one, content to let his wife deal with any demanding matters that arose. Reluctant though he was to leave the comfort of the hall and become embroiled in yet another discussion of the squire’s murder, he recognised the need for his presence.
“De Marins should also attend,” he said to his wife shortly; then, to his brother, “And you, too, William. This matter touches both of us.”
Nicolaa sent Alain, who was standing rigidly behind Gerard’s chair, to find Bascot and direct him to attend her without delay. Then she made her excuses to the company and they all left the hall.
Bascot came away from the meeting with Godfroi and Marie de Tournay with a feeling that he was now more
