Joan Wolf - The Poisoned Serpent

Hugh made his way to the back of the house.

She was stirring something in the big pot that hung over the fire, and her head was already turned in his direction when he came in. Her skin, delicately flushed from the heat of the fire, looked beautiful, set off by the plain gold tunic she wore over her dark green undertunic.

They looked at each other.

Nicholas and Iseult had been sitting on one of the kitchen benches next to Bernard, and as soon as they saw Hugh, both children jumped up and ran over to him.

Iseult regarded the bandage on his arm with huge blue eyes.

“Does it hurt, Hugh?” she asked.

“It’s not too bad.”

She slipped her hand confidingly into his good one and smiled up at him.

“I won’t be able to help you with your braids for a while, I’m afraid,” he told her.

Iseult gave him a sunny smile. “That’s all right. Cristen helped me. She is good at making braids.”

Nicholas snorted to indicate his impatience with this foolish conversation. “I wish I could have seen the fight yesterday,” he said. “I wish I could have seen you kill Sir Richard.” His tone was indignant. Obviously he felt that he had been deprived of something that was his due.

“He murdered my father,” Nicholas went on. “If I were old enough I would have killed him myself.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Hugh said gravely. “I hope you don’t mind too much that I did it for you.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Nicholas said. “What I mind is not being allowed to watch!”

“Iseult could not watch, and she could not be left alone,” Hugh said.

Nicholas scowled. “Having a sister is nothing but a nuisance.”

“Well, it’s just as much of a nuisance having a brother, I think,” Iseult retorted.

They glared at each other.

Cristen said serenely, “The porridge is ready. Who wants to eat?”

Food proved to be a wondrous diversion. Both children helped to carry bowls of porridge into the solar, and everyone sat down around the table to eat it.

Hugh knew it was for his sake that Cristen had cooked this meal instead of the usual ale and bread, and he ate hungrily. The porridge wiped out the last of the bad taste that the poppy juice had left in his mouth.

“There is one thing I don’t understand,” Bernard said, his eyes on Hugh. “Why did Richard think it was necessary to kill de Beauté when he had Elizabeth’s promise that she would defy her father and refuse to marry you? All along we thought that his motive was to hide the tax cheat, but it seems he knew nothing about that.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I wondered the same thing,” Hugh said. “We had a little time to chat while we were hacking away at each other yesterday, so I asked him for the answer.”

He scraped the last bit of porridge out of his bowl and ate it. Then he looked up, a distinctly sardonic look on his face. “It seems that Richard was afraid I would charm Elizabeth into changing her mind. He was determined to keep me from marrying her, no matter the cost.”

Everyone stared at Hugh.

“That makes sense,” Bernard said slowly.

At that moment, someone knocked upon the front door. Alan went to see who it was, and returned with William Rotier.

“My lord,” Rotier said to Hugh. “We have just received news that I think you will wish to hear.”

Hugh waited.

“An hour ago a messenger brought word to the castle that the king is on his way to Lincoln and will be here this very afternoon.”

Bernard and Thomas exclaimed in surprise.

“He is accompanied by the Earl of Wiltshire and by William of Roumare, Earl of Cambridge,” Rotier went on.

Silence reigned in the solar.

Then Cristen asked, her voice a little breathless, “What of my father? Do you know if he accompanies the king?”

“I believe he does, my lady,” William Rotier replied.

More silence. Nicholas and Iseult exchanged anxious glances, not understanding what was happening.

Then, “What a merry gathering we shall be,” Hugh said.

“Aye, my lord,” Rotier replied impassively.

Hugh frowned. “What is the temper in the town, William?

“The town is in a state of shock, my lord. Richard was very well liked. People are having difficultly realizing that he was a villain.”

Hugh nodded soberly, his gaze on his empty porridge bowl.

“However, you are well liked, too, my lord,” Rotier continued. “Neither the townsfolk nor the castle guard appear inclined to dispute the result of yesterday’s combat.”

Bernard said gruffly, “What of the sheriff?”

“He is under house arrest. There can be little doubt that Stephen will replace him once he learns of Gervase’s dishonesty.” Rotier grimaced. “God knows who he will name as sheriff in his place.”

Hugh lifted his eyes from his contemplation of the empty porridge bowl. “What a jolly time we are in for,” he said lightly.

“The king won’t take us away from you, will he, Hugh?” Iseult asked nervously.

Hugh looked at her in astonishment. “Why ever would he do that?”

She gazed back at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive.

“No one is going to take you away from Hugh, Iseult,” Cristen said calmly. She looked at Rotier. “Thank you for bringing us this news. We will prepare ourselves as best we can.”

Rotier bowed to her and turned to go.

Bernard stood and said, “I’ll go back to the castle with you.”

The two men went out together.

Thomas said gloomily, “Sir Nigel is going to murder me.”

“Nonsense,” Cristen said briskly.

“Why would Sir Nigel want to murder you?” Nicholas asked curiously.

Hugh stood up. “I suppose I really can’t return to the sheriff’s house, but I wish I weren’t staying here.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Cristen said.

He looked somberly at her small, tense face.

“All that matters now,” she said, “is that you convince the king.”

It was precisely two hours past noon when Stephen, King of England, entered his city of Lincoln. He came as a triumphant war leader, having, by judicious use of his feudal army and his paid mercenaries, put to rout the rebels in Cornwall.

Most of the king’s feudal troops had returned home, and he was accompanied to Lincoln by his Flemish mercenaries and their captain, William of Ypres. Also riding in the king’s train were the Earl of Wiltshire and the Earl of Cambridge, two powerful men bent on increasing their ascendancy by acquiring the additional honor of Earl of Lincoln.

A worried Sir Nigel Haslin accompanied his outraged overlord, Lord Guy. Nigel was grimly determined to rescue his daughter from her own folly and remove her to the safety of Somerford.

Stephen took up residence in Lincoln Castle while most of his troops quartered themselves outside the city walls. The king had expected to be greeted by the sheriff, but was met instead by Lord Richard Basset. Over a late afternoon dinner, his chief justiciar apprised him of the situation in Lincoln.

The king was not happy with the justiciar’s news. Stephen wanted to bask in the glory of his triumph in Cornwall, not listen to tales about more betrayals.

God knows, the king thought irritably, he had had few enough victories to celebrate since his cousin Matilda had landed in England and raised war against him. Now, at last, he had achieved a clear-cut success in Cornwall, and what happened afterward?

The minute he set foot out of Cornwall, he had been met by two of his most powerful and dangerous earls, both of whom demanded the same thing: the lordship of the murdered Earl of Lincoln. Now he had to hear how the Sheriff of Lincoln, whom he had trusted, had been cheating him out of the tax money he needed to pay his troops. Not to mention the fact that the sheriff’s son, one of the most promising young men in the kingdom, had been found guilty of murder.