The knight wheeled his horse around and rejoined the company, calling out to them. Hugh shut out their shouts and the sounds of the horses’ hooves and allowed himself to continue his musings.
After Caroline’s death, he had made a vow that he would marry a young, unworldly woman who was compliant and unassuming, with a wealthy dower. He would teach her what she needed to know in the bedchamber, and if she was reluctant to learn, he had dozens of eager women with whom to dally. Never again would he put himself in the position of wearing the dreaded horns of the cuckold. Had he not been such a powerful and feared earl, he would have suffered untold repercussions from Caroline’s unfaithfulness. As it was, he had hardened himself even more, quashing the sidelong glances and innuendoes whispered at the court of the late King, Edward’s father, withering everyone into silence with his retorts. No one dared to speak of Caroline and her unfaithfulness again.
Indeed, he knew that because he had the reputation of being such a hard man, some whispered that perhaps he himself had ordered Caroline murdered in her lying-in bed, allowing her life’s blood to ebb away. In truth, in a rage, he had briefly considered doing so, but had ultimately chosen to do nothing. He realized that he would have become as much a monster as she, had he stooped to end her life. In the end, she had died, along with the poor babe, and he had left for the Crusade within a fortnight, leaving his marshal, his steward, and his chief forester in charge.
He left them in charge. In charge! he scoffed. Fat lot of ruffians they all were! Especially de Bretton, his chief forester. Hugh frowned and slowed his stallion into a brisk trot. Trust was not in his vocabulary, Hugh reminded himself, and so he would quietly go about making inquiries himself about the conduct of his own chief forester as a safeguard. If de Bretton was involved, he was more of a fool than Hugh thought he was. De Bretton knew Hugh would brook no insubordination or thievery, and the penalty to be paid would be a long and painful death. It thus seemed only logical that Osbert le Fraunceys was the culprit, because of his inept mistress, Eleanor, Hugh concluded. Obviously, she had nothing better to do than to ride to the hunt in the company of her knights, and who knew how many of them she had dallied with? Most certainly, she did not spend her time carefully managing her forest, or the poachers would never have been able to seek haven on her lands. She had best have an answer for him about the poaching when they met, he vowed, or she would regret her misspent hours at the hunt.
At length, they rode up to the portcullis of Strathcombe. Hugh halted his company and sent one of his knights to greet the posted guards. Everyone in the castle would have been alerted by the watchmen on the towers who knew his colors and would have called out the word to all.
With much bowing and exchanging of greetings, Hugh and his retinue were welcomed into the castle bailey by Gilbert, the Steward of Strathcombe.
“Your lordship,” Gilbert said, after all the horses were led away to the stables and the knights dispersed. The two men walked through the courtyard, toward the entrance of the Great Hall. “We were expecting you not until Tuesday next.”
“Aye,” Hugh said, “but I felt matters were such that I needed to speak with Lady Eleanor much sooner.” God’s eyes, but he had been livid when he read her letter.
“Have there been more crimes in the forest?” Gilbert asked, turning a concerned face to Hugh as they climbed the steps into the Great Hall.
“Nay,” Hugh said, “but looking over John’s records fired me with urgency. We cannot allow criminals to have their sway any longer.”
“Lady Eleanor has met with Osbert many times during the past two months, and I know he has had his foresters in the chase on watch and in the villages, seeking information,” Gilbert said. He shrugged. “All to no avail. But she has done her best.”
“Hmph!” Hugh could not hold back a snort of contempt. “Methinks there needs to be a man’s hand at the helm of this investigation.” He looked at Gilbert, who said nothing, but raised his shoulders again in another shrug. Besides, Hugh wanted to add, when one’s own chief forester is at the bottom of it all, how can anyone expect to bring the poaching to a halt?
“Your chamber awaits you,” Gilbert said, as they mounted a third flight of steps into an empty solar, accompanied by two servants, carrying the small chest that held Hugh’s clothes. Gilbert stifled what he truly wanted to say regarding Lady Eleanor’s acumen and steadfastness. ‘Twas not his place, and he knew it.
“My thanks,” Hugh said. “Lady Eleanor will meet with me at nones in the Great Hall. Till then, I shall first rest and then speak with some of my knights.”
They exchanged farewells and Hugh closed the heavy doors. The solar was spacious and the appointments as good as his own. Gilbert must be a good steward, Hugh reasoned, to have the household in order, despite serving a naïve and inept mistress.
Rest! he repeated to himself. He could not rest until he confronted Eleanor and called her to accounts for her lax management of the forest. She would soon discover she had made some grievous errors. He paced the room back and forth, his fists clenched. He had to take care of this forest matter, and soon he most definitely must find himself a wife, so that no longer would he have to depend on the members of his household to manage his forest
