William nodded, and with a sigh raised his foot so that the young man might pull off the sodden shoe. He guzzled down another draught as the young nobleman attended to the other boot.
'There, now,' said Warwick, when he had finished. 'Better, no?'
'Mmmm,' murmured William into the cup. 'Much.'
The earl carried the wet boots to the hearth and put them on the warm stones to dry, then returned to the table and sat down. He and the king sipped their wine in silence for a time, feeling the tensions of the road begin to ease beneath application of the sweet, dark liquid.
'This is all my father's fault,' mused William after a time. 'If he had not promised my ninny of a brother the throne of England, all would be well. He roused Robert's hopes and, fool that he is, the duke has set the value too high-thinks it worth more than it is.' He drained the cup and then filled it again. 'Truth is,' he continued, 'the blasted island costs more than you can ever get out of it.'
'It was ever thus,' Warwick suggested. 'King Harold never had two pennies to rub together one day to the next, as my father used to say. And Aelfred was in debt from the day he took the crown till the day they took it off him in the grave.'
'This is supposed to cheer me, Warwick?' grumbled the king.
'I merely suggest that your condition is neither more nor less than that which all English rulers have endured. God knows, it is difficult enough even for an earl, much less a duke or a king.'
'Duke Robert does right well,' William pointed out. He took up a loaf of bread, broke it, and stuffed half into his mouth. He chewed heavily for a moment. 'To be sure, most of what he has he got from me.'
'Cut him off, Sire,' suggested Warwick. 'Or make him sign a settlement treaty in exchange for his promise never to raise rebellion again. Get him to put his name to it.'
'Robert would have nothing if it wasn't for me propping him up,' growled William, the bread half-eaten in his mouth. 'No more! No more, hear? This is the end.'
'With your permission, Sire, I'll have a treaty drawn up at once,' the earl suggested, raising his cup. 'We'll get Robert to sign it and be done with him once and for all.'
'If he thinks I'll buy him off again, he's woefully mistaken,' said William. 'If he demands another penny from me, I'll march on him, curse the devil, I will! I swear it.'
'Well,' replied Warwick judiciously, trying to calm the agitated monarch, 'perhaps he will listen to reason this time. Would you like me to arrange for a treaty?'
Lord Leicester returned with another jug of wine and, behind him, a servant bearing a platter of cold roast duck and chicken. 'His Grace the archbishop says that he is retiring for the night. He wishes you a good night's rest and sleep. He will conduct a Mass in the morning and break fast after.'
'And my brother? When is he expected?'
'The archbishop could not say, Sire. Tomorrow, I expect.'
'Well, then,' decided William, 'we could do worse than make a night of it. Here, bring that platter! I'm famished.'
They ate and drank, talking long into the night. Both Lord Leicester and his brother, Warwick, remained with the king, sleeping in chairs beside the hearth while William snored in his feather bed. As dawn cracked the damp grey sky in the east, the chapel bell sounded, calling the faithful to Mass. William and his noblemen stirred at the sound, then went back to sleep, awaking again when they heard a clatter in the courtyard below. Warwick got up and walked to the narrow window, pushed open the wooden shutter and looked out. He could see seven men on horseback, or perhaps five men and two women. On closer inspection, at least two of them appeared to be priests. Although the day was still new, their mounts appeared fresh and fairly unsoiled by the mud on the rain- soaked roads. They had not travelled far, the earl surmised. He watched for a moment, scanning the group, but failed to recognise anyone-in any event, they were certainly not Duke Robert and his entourage. Turning from the window, he went to the king's bed and gave a polite cough. When this failed to rouse His Majesty, he took hold of the royal shoulder and gave it a shake.
'Sire,' he said, 'I think the vultures are gathering. We should be ready for them.'
William opened his eyes and tried to raise his head. The effort was too much and he lay back with a groan. 'Who has come? Is my brother finally here?'
'I do not know, my lord. I did not see him,' replied Warwick. 'A priest or two have arrived, but unless the duke travels in the company of priests now, he is not yet here.'
'Oh,' sighed William, struggling upright. 'Why did you let me drink so much?'
'It is a fault of mine, Majesty,' the Earl of Warwick assured him. 'I must try to do better. Then again, the archbishop's wine is very good.'
'It is,' agreed William, swinging his short, stout legs off the bed. 'Is there any left, do you think?'
Henry walked to the table and began examining the jugs and cups.
'Where is Leicester?' asked the king, stretching his back and yawning.
'He has gone to Mass,'Warwick reported. 'I expect him to return soon. Shall I have someone fetch him for you?'
'No, no,' decided the king. 'Let him be.' Heaving his bulk up onto unsteady legs, he tottered to the table and the cup which Lord Warwick now held out to him. The king took a sip, tasted it, then drained the cup. 'Ah, that's better.'
The young earl disappeared momentarily to summon a servant lurking in the corridor to prepare a basin of water for the king, and commanded another to bring the king's chest to the room. Presently, the servant appeared with a basin of hot water, and while William washed, Warwick supervised the cleaning of the king's boots. 'Get all that muck off there and brush them well,' he ordered, so that His Majesty would not look like a common farmhand before the other noblemen. The chamberlain meanwhile appeared with the king's chest and a message that some people had come and were seeking audience on a most urgent matter.
'What do they want?' asked William, raising the hem of his tunic and drawing it over his head. Warwick opened the chest and withdrew a clean, white tunic.
'They did not say, Your Majesty,' replied the chamberlain. 'I was told only that it was of utmost importance that they speak to you at once, and before you speak to anyone else today.'
'Impertinent lot,' observed William, pulling the tunic over his head. The garment, though handsomely wrought, was made for a slightly smaller frame; the fine fabric stretched over his expansive gut. 'Warwick,' he said, 'go see who it is and find out what they want. I have not broken fast yet, and I'm not in a humour to brook any silliness.'
'To be sure, Sire,' replied the young earl.
William nodded, picked up a scrap of bread from the remains of last night's supper, sniffed it, and took a bite. Seeing the servant still stood staring at him, he threw the rind of dried bread crust at him. 'Bring me my food!' The servant ducked the missile and darted for the door. 'And be quick about it,' William called after him. 'Important people have come. We must not keep them waiting.'
CHAPTER 41
S 'truth, I'd never make a sailor. Even the smallest stretch o' water seen from the deck of a ship brings me out in a sweat. If a wave should rock the boat, it's me there hanging onto the rail and spilling my supper into the briny deep. Oh, and I had cause enough. Even the master of the ship said it was the worst storm in many a year o' sailing. And he should know-he's crossed that narrow sea more times than a rooster with a henhouse across the road. Our own small voyage might not have been so bad, and indeed I had allowed myself to imagine that the worst was over when we entered the wide estuary of the Thames and sallied slowly upriver to the White Tower of Lundein to pay our ruddy King William a visit.
Alas, the king was not in residence.
Gone to Rouen, they told us-gone to parley with his brother, not to return till Saint Matthew's Day, maybe not till Christmas.
Never mind, said Bran, we've come this far, what's a little further? 'Master Ruprecht!' he called, and I can still hear those fateful words: 'Cast off and make sail for France!' As it had turned out, our man Ruprecht, the ship's
