Alys Clare - Out of the Dawn Light

He was rarely called upon to fulfil his judicial role, which suited him too, but now trouble had come and lodged itself right in his own house. He found it hard to meet the dark eyes of his guest, for the man seemed all but unhinged by his nephew’s death. The dead young man was also his guest’s heir, Gilbert thought astutely, and we Normans set a great store on having a suitable male heir to inherit from us, so that the loss of such a man would indeed be a heavy blow. Yes, he thought with a sigh. Trouble was here all right, and he was uncomfortably aware that he must step forward to deal with it.

Now, on this bright summer morning when he would far rather have stayed in his own chamber with his pretty wife and the enchanting baby boy with whom she had recently presented him, he had been forced to rise, dress and go into his hall to entertain Baudouin de la Flèche.

Baudouin stood up smartly as Gilbert strode into the hall and they exchanged polite greetings. When Baudouin deemed there had been enough pleasantries, he said quite curtly, ‘So, Gilbert, have you come to a decision concerning the crown?’ He almost said my crown but that could have been seen as provocative.

Gilbert did not immediately answer, instead walking over to the open door of the wide hall and gazing out for a few moments over the peaceful scene outside. Gentle country sounds floated up: the quacking of ducks on the pond just beyond the courtyard; the barking of a dog; light voices and laughter as two young maidservants enjoyed a gossip; the rhythmic sound of someone sweeping muck and old straw out of a stable. Ah, he thought, with a soft sigh. If only these small, pleasurable, everyday matters were to be the sum of my concerns this day. Then he turned to face his guest.

Even before Gilbert had said a word, Baudouin’s heart sank, for he knew from the fat man’s uncharacteristically solemn expression what he was going to say. Gilbert was weak — Baudouin had detected that after a very short acquaintance — and, like all weak men, he could on occasion stick with stubborn tenacity to some small point which, among the minutiae of everyday occurrence, for some reason presented itself as a matter of principle.

It was Baudouin’s misfortune that the point on which Gilbert had stuck was the ownership of the crown.

Go on, you moon-faced fool, Baudouin thought bitterly as he waited for Gilbert’s judgement. You don’t care in the least who ends up with these particular spoils and it would make no difference to you if you said now, Here, Baudouin, take your treasure, with my blessing.

Gilbert frowned, as if what he was about to say pained him, and then repeated what he had said the previous day. ‘It would certainly seem, my dear Baudouin,’ he began pompously, ‘that the right of title to this precious object is yours, for nobody is disputing that it was found on the shore at Drakelow. I understand that there is some confusion over precisely where it was found, which raises the question of the ancient and inalienable right of the king to anything found between high and low water, but I do not think we need bother overmuch about that if you assure me it was found on Drakelow land.’

‘As I do,’ Baudouin said firmly. He did not even flinch as he spoke the lie.

‘However,’ Gilbert added, his voice dropping to a new level of portentousness, ‘unfortunately Drakelow is not at present in your hands, although we all hope that this will prove but a temporary state of affairs, as indeed it surely will if the king opts for leniency.’

He won’t opt for anything of the sort, Baudouin thought, unless I persuade him, and I can’t do that without my crown. He stared at Gilbert, fighting to keep his despair and his fury out of his eyes.

When he was reasonably sure that he could speak without his voice giving him away, he said, ‘And what of the boy?’

‘There again,’ Gilbert said regretfully, ‘although I do indeed sympathize most sincerely with your loss, I fear I cannot accede to your demand that he be immediately hanged.’ Some tiny portion of the emotions that seethed and boiled through Baudouin must have been visible, for Gilbert took a step back and said in a placatory tone, ‘Oh, I am sure that it will come to that in the end, for you have a witness who has given a clear statement that he saw Sibert attack your poor late nephew, and of course your word on this is more than enough.’

Then do it! Baudouin raged silently. Take the damned impudent youth out and string him up!

‘However,’ Gilbert went on — and Baudouin had reluctantly to admire his surprising refusal to be browbeaten — ‘I do feel that it is necessary that I instigate some further enquiries, both here and at Drakelow. I must-’ He broke off, frowning, and Baudouin guessed that he had little idea how to go about his self-appointed task. ‘I shall speak to the youth this morning,’ he said instead. ‘He was distraught last night when the guards put him in the lock-up but after a night’s sleep he may be more approachable. I shall-’

He was interrupted by voices coming from the courtyard; the male tones of a couple of grooms and the lighter but far more insistent voice of a girl. Gilbert strode over to the doorway and, from the top of the stone steps, looked down at the scene below; Baudouin hurried after him.

The grooms were remonstrating with a thin copper-haired girl who wore a shabby woollen tunic and, tied around her waist, a rather beautiful shawl. She was demanding admittance to the lord’s house and the two grooms were telling her to go away although, Baudouin observed, not in such polite terms.

‘I will see him!’ she insisted, wresting her arm out of the grip of the younger of the grooms and kicking out at his shins for good measure. He skipped neatly out of reach. ‘It’s my right,’ she added, ‘my father’s one of his tenants and he’s a good tenant, he fulfils all his obligations and what’s more he’s an eel-catcher and he sees to it that the lord gets the best of the catch!’

‘Ah,’ Gilbert murmured, and Baudouin saw him smile.

‘You know this girl?’ he demanded.

‘No, but I know her father.’ Gilbert was rubbing his round belly. ‘She’s right, he does bring me fine eels. His name’s Wymond and he lives with his family out at Aelf Fen.’ His eyes rounded. ‘Where your young man comes from!’ He turned to Baudouin, amazed.

So, Baudouin thought. This is the girl. He stared more closely and, as she edged closer, he realized that he had seen her before. She it was who had stared at him so belligerently over the heads of the crowd when he accused the boy of murder.

‘You should not allow her to push her way in,’ he said. ‘There is a proper procedure if a tenant has a matter to discuss with the lord of the manor, and bursting in on your privacy is not it.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ Gilbert said mildly. ‘She’s here now and what’s more she’s putting up quite a fight.’ He chuckled. ‘I like a bit of spirit in a girl.’ He beckoned to the grooms, calling out an order. ‘I may as well see what she wants now she’s here.’

Baudouin could have told him what she wanted. Filled with sudden apprehension — what, after all, could a slip of a girl do against a man like him? — he stepped back into the shadows and waited to hear what she would say.

I was glad that the grooms had been so offensive (especially the younger one, who had the cheek to call me a scrawny little cat and then told me to go away, only not in those terms) because they made me angry and being angry was a far better way to go up the steps and face Gilbert de Caudebec than being terrified, which was what I’d been before I encountered the grooms.

He led me across his enormous hall — it was awe-inspiring and my whole house could have fitted inside about three if not four times — and invited me to sit down on a wooden seat, long enough for about half a dozen people, with a straight back and carved dragons or something on its front legs. He waited till I had done so and then sat down in a huge chair opposite me. I stared wide-eyed — I couldn’t help it — and a succession of vivid images flooded my mind. A flagged floor — no damp beaten earth and smelly, soggy rushes here; a huge wooden chest, elaborately carved with an intertwining design of flowers and imaginary beasts; a huge pewter tray on which stood a jug and several goblets; and, as a softening, human touch, a baby’s silver rattle attached to a coral teat. Stop it, I commanded myself. You’re not here to make an inventory of Lord Gilbert’s hall.