Scarlet

'Now see here,' protested the sheriff, still unwilling to see the suspicious foreigners slip away so easily.

'Was there something?' inquired the ship's master.

'No,' said the count. 'Be about your business.' To the sheriff, he said, 'Come, de Glanville, there is no more to be done here.'

When this was translated for His Eminence, Father Dominic gave his Norman hosts a blessing and, with a last promise to mention their care and attention to the pope, released them from their duty of guarding him and his entourage. He walked onto the ship and went below deck. A moment later, the two lay brothers appeared and helped the ship's master lead the horses on deck and secure them for the voyage. When this was done, they helped the master cast off and, using stout poles, pushed the craft away from the dock and out into the river, where it drifted for a little while before finding the current. Then, as they entered the stream, Father Dominic, Lady Ghisella, and Will Scarlet came back onto the deck and waved farewell to the Normans, who, although they could not be sure, thought they heard the sound of laughter carried on the wind as the ship entered the centre of the channel and was carried along by the slowly building tide-flow, and away.

CHAPTER 40

Rouen

King William Rufus, wet and miserable in the driving rain, rode at the head of a company of his best and most loyal knights. The royal ranks were followed by sixty men-at-arms grimly slogging through the sticky mud. Water streamed down from a low sky of seamless grey from horizon to horizon, falling in steady rivulets from helmet, shield, and lance blade, puddling deep in the wheel-rutted road. The farms and villages flung out around the low, squat city of Rouen appeared just as cheerless and desolate as the king and his dreary entourage.

Curse his fool of a stiff-necked brother, he thought. It should be Duke Robert-not himself, the king of England-who was saddle sore and catching his death in the rain. Blast the imbecile and his infernal scheming! Why could Robert not accept his divinely appointed lot and be happy ruling the family's ancestral lands? William told himself that if that had been his own particular fate, he would have embraced it and worked to make something of his portion and not be forever wasting his substance fomenting rebellion and inflaming the rapacious ambitions of France's endless supply of muttering malcontents.

These thoughts put the already irritated king in a simmering rage. And when he contemplated the time and money wasted on keeping his idiot brother appeased and under control, his thin blue blood began to boil.

Thus, William arrived in the yard of the archbishop's palace at Rouen already angry and spoiling for a fight. The palace, a solid square of cut stone three floors high and studded with wood-shuttered windows, occupied the top of a prominent hill a mile or so beyond the city wherein stood the cathedral. William's cool and indifferent welcome by the current incumbent of the palace did little to mollify the king, or sweeten his disposition.

'Ah,William,' intoned Archbishop Bonne-Ame, 'good of you to come.' Heavily robed and leaning on his bishop's staff, the old man puffed, out of breath from his short walk across the vestibule. An honour guard of six knights and two earls entered with the king, the water from their cloaks dripping on the polished stone floor, which sent a bevy of clerical servants scampering for rags to mop up the mess.

'My pleasure,' grumbled William, shedding his sopping cloak and tossing it to a waiting servant. 'Where is he? What's it to be this time? Come, let's get to it.'

The archbishop's pale hand fluttered up like an agitated bird. 'Oh, my lord king, this is to be a most serious conclave. I hope you understand the gravity of the moment.'

'I understand that my brother is as worthless,' quipped William, 'as is anyone who sides with him. Beyond that, there is only the money it will take to buy him off.'

The archbishop stiffened and lowered his head in a bow. 'This way, Your Majesty.'

The archbishop turned and started away with King William a step or two behind; the king's men threw off their wet cloaks and assembled in a double rank behind him. And as servants rushed to pick up the sodden garments, the ageing archbishop led them down a lofty corridor to a large audience room where the king found assembled a few minor lords standing around the blazing hearth at one end of the room. They looked around guiltily as the king of England and his men entered. Duke Robert was not among them, nor anyone William recognised.

'Where is he?' demanded the king. 'I have ridden hard for three days in the rain. I am not playing at games.'

'This is what I wanted to tell you, Majesty,' explained the archbishop. 'Duke Robert is not here. Indeed, few of those summoned to attend have arrived. It's the weather, you see… but we expect them at any moment.'

'Do we!' snapped the angry king. 'Do we indeed, sir!'

'We do, Majesty,' the old cleric assured him. 'I have ordered chambers to be prepared for you. If you would like to rest a little before the proceedings, I will have refreshment sent to you.'

William gave a last scowl around the near-empty room and allowed himself to be persuaded. 'Very well,' he said. 'Have wine brought to me in my chambers.' To one of his men, he said, 'Leicester, fetch me dry clothes. I'll change out of these blasted wet things.'

'Of course, Sire. At once,' replied the Earl of Leicester. With a nod and flick of his hand, he sent one of his men to carry out the errand. 'Will there be anything else?'

'No,' said the king, feeling a great weariness settling upon him. He started after the archbishop, saying, 'You and Warwick will attend me. The others are to see to the horses, then take food and rest for themselves.'

'At once, Sire.' The earl gave quick instructions to the rest of the king's guard and sent them away. He and the Earl of Warwick accompanied the king to the apartment that had been prepared for him-a large room with a bed and a square oak table with four chairs. Archbishop Bonne-Ame pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the room, glancing around to assure himself that all was in order for his tetchy guest.

A fire burned in the small hearth, and on the table sat a jug of wine with four cups and, beside these, a platter with loaves of bread and soft cheese wrapped in grape leaves.

William walked to the table and poured wine into three of the cups. 'Thank you, Archbishop,' he said, offering a cup to the nearest earl, 'we are well satisfied with our arrangements. You may go.'

Bonne-Ame bowed his old white head and retreated, closing the door. 'I leave you to your rest.'

'My brother is planning mischief,' observed the king, his nose in his cup as he gulped down a healthy draught. 'I can feel it in my bones.'

'Do you know le Bellay?' asked the Earl of Leicester.

'I know my brother,' replied William.

'If there is to be bloodshed…,' began young Lord Warwick.

The king cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. 'It won't come to that, I think,' William said, handing him a cup. 'At least not yet.' He drank again and said, 'I wish I knew what he and his sycophants were up to, though.'

'Those men down there,' said Leicester. 'Who were they?'

'God knows,' answered the king. 'Never seen the rascals before. You?'

'I might have met one or another. Difficult to say.' He replaced his cup on the board and said, 'I think I might just go and see if I can find out.'

'Never mind,' said the king. Drawing out a chair, he dropped heavily into it, then shoved a second chair towards the earl. 'Here. Sit. You must be as tired as I am. Sit. We'll drink and rest.'

'With respect, Sire, I would rest easier if I knew who those men are and what they're doing here.'

The king shrugged. 'Go then, but hurry back. And tell the chamberlain we need some meat to go with this bread and cheese.'

'Of course, my lord,' said the Earl of Leicester, moving quickly towards the door. He hoped to catch the archbishop for a private word before the old man disappeared into the cavern of his palace.

'And more wine!' called the king after him.

William leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. 'Sire?' said the Earl of Warwick, setting aside his cup. He came to stand before the king. 'If you would allow me,' he offered, indicating the monarch's feet, 'I think we might dry those boots a little.'