Chapter Eleven
It was a winter’s dawn, complete with ice on the ground and a pewter-colored sky. The weather this winter had been so mild that only now, in the midst of the Christmas season, was it starting to truly feel like winter.
Val was in his solar in the hours before dawn, waiting for the men Calum had selected to join him.
He knew they would be here soon, eager to know their directive and Val had been wracking his brain for the past two hours on how to ease them into the seriousness of the orders.
He’d hoped to soften the blow. But he’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t; any way they were to look at Henry’s missive, the situation was plain – Val had been asked to intercede in something that, so far, only the Pope had made an attempt to intercede in.
It was a feud that had been going on for years.
And now, Henry was hiding behind the law in this case or, more specifically, behind Val.
A man who could take the fall for him.
It was a realization that had cost Val sleep that night.
He’d been horribly exhausted from no sleep the night before in Bishop’s Waltham and had managed just a few hours before thoughts of Henry and Canterbury woke him.
He hadn’t been able to sleep with those two on his mind, so he’d arisen, shaved, and dressed, preparing to meet his men before heading out to Canterbury.
In the weak light of the tallow tapers, Val was seated at the table, once again going over the missive sent from Henry.
He’d already read it fifty times; he didn’t know why he needed to read it again.
When he’d read it the first few times yesterday, he’d been in a bit of a fog, and this morning he was only starting to think clearly about it.
If Val was one thing, it was decisive – and he always had a plan.
He’d come up with a plan for the arrest, one which relied heavily on logic.
He could only hope he could stick to that plan before Canterbury’s guards rushed him.
As he was mulling over what was to come, a figure appeared in the solar door and he looked up to see the silhouette of someone carrying a tray.
He assumed it was a servant until it came into the light and he saw his mother enter, carrying a tray with food and drink upon it.
Puzzled, as his mother hadn’t served him food and drink since he was a child, he stood up and took the tray from her as she approached his table.
“I am flattered,” he said, setting the tray down and looking at the contents – bread, porridge, warmed wine. “Since you have not brought me food in some time, I feel a little as if you are bringing me a last meal.”
He meant it in jest but Margaretha saw no humor in it.
Wrapped tightly in soft blue wool, her features were pale and strained in this early morning hour.
She’d been told of Henry’s missive the night before and had been unable to sleep because of it.
Her beautiful, strong son was to be used as a scapegoat by a stubborn and vile king…
those horrible thoughts had been rolling around in her mind for hours.
It hurt her heart to know that her proud boy would soon be facing an unwinnable situation.
Therefore, she had to see him before he left.
God only knew if he would return.
“It may be poisoned for all you know,” she said seriously, as she was coming to appreciate his attempt to lighten the dark mood. “I would be careful eating it if I were you.”
Val gave her a half-grin. “That is what I like about you, Mother,” he said. “You show no mercy. You would poison me rather than let me carry out Henry’s order.”
Any levity Margaretha might have been feeling was dashed.
“It might be a blessing,” she murmured, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
“Although we did not discuss this much when you told me, I find that now I must. I have been thinking about this all night, Val. You know that you are going to be punished for this. You are being ordered to involve yourself in a family squabble. When it is all over, Henry and Thomas shall forgive each other and you shall be imprisoned.”
“I am doing what I have been ordered to do.”
“But you cannot win!”
Val didn’t want to argue with her, not now.
But he’d had the very same thoughts so it was difficult for him to hold out against her.
“Then what do you suggest?” he hissed. “That I refuse? I will find myself imprisoned faster if I do that. You saw the missive for yourself; he threatened me if I refused the order. Or shall I side with Canterbury on this? We would lose everything if I did.”
Margaretha watched him as he moved about the table, his movements full of the frustration he was feeling. “Your father still has family in Le Ruau,” she said quietly. “Go, Val. Go to France and remain there until this situation goes away.”
Val looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “Leave?” he repeated.
He could see the concern on her face and he labored to ease her.
“Mother, I know you are frightened but running away is not the answer. I would be a coward if I did and I am not a coward. You named me Valor for a reason, did you not? I would not be living up to my name if I ran from this.”
Margaretha was starting to feel some desperation, unusual for the usually cool woman. “Sometimes caution is the better part of valor,” she muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I have one son,” she said. “I do not wish to see him caught up in Henry’s personal battles. There are some battles that you cannot win and this is one of them.”
He snorted. “You are fine when I am in the king’s favor but the moment he asks something of me that requires bravery, you want me to fold like a weakling.
I am sorry, Mother, but you did not raise a fool.
I will fulfill my duties and I will face whatever the consequences are.
I thought you knew me better than that.”
“And Lady Vesper?” Margaretha went for the jugular. “What about her? You said you wanted to court her, Val. How are you to do that if you are in prison?”
Val was off-balance with her attack now.
He hadn’t expected her to bring Vesper into the mix.
In fact, he’d been doing admirably well – he hadn’t thought of Vesper in over two hours.
Now, Margaretha was throwing the woman in his face, trying to weaken him.
They were good tactics from a woman who was used to winning.
But not this time.
“I do not know,” he said honestly. “I suppose I shall seek a resolution to that situation when the time comes. Mother, nothing you can say will change my mind. So, before you and I start arguing and say hurtful things, I suggest you stop trying to talk me out of this. I am sorry you do not understand my sense of duty.”
Margaretha fell silent for a moment, but only for a moment. Her son’s words had wounded her. “I know your sense of duty all too well,” she said quietly. “Your father had the same sense of duty. Do you recall how I met your father?”
“I do. He served your father.”
Margaretha nodded. “Indeed, he did. Gavin de Nerra was an astonishing sight, Val. Tall and dark, he was beauty and power personified. He served Matilda’s husband, Geoffrey, as the Count of Anjou because he was a cousin to Geoffrey.
The House of de Nerra is kin to the Counts of Anjou.
Your father was gifted to my father in a treaty with the Saxon house of Byington to secure an alliance and that is how he came to serve here at Selborne.
You know that you are related to the king, Val.
He is your father’s cousin and yours as well. ”
Val knew that. “How do you think I have been in favor all of these years?” he asked.
“Of course, my sword has played a larger role in that but I received opportunities many did not because of my relationship to the king. I am well aware of it, Mother. You are telling me nothing I do not already know.”
Margaretha took a step towards him, her eyes riveted to him.
“So Henry believes that because you are his family, that he can send you out to attack his enemy in Canterbury?” She was becoming emotional, which was very rare for her.
“I lost your father to Henry. Gavin went to France to help Henry protect some of his properties against the French king and he was killed for it. You were there, Val; you held your father as he died upon the field of battle.”
Val was becoming less and less patient with his mother.
He didn’t want to relive that horrible day when his father, in the midst of trying to reclaim a very minor castle in France, was hit in the neck with an arrow.
Val watched his father die and it was something he didn’t like to be reminded about.
“Aye, I was there,” he said.
“I will not lose my son to Henry as well!”
Val had to stop her before she became completely irrational about the situation. “Your husband was a knight and so is your son. You cannot dictate our duties, Mother. I am fulfilling an order from the king just as my father was. And you know that Papa would agree with me.”
Margaretha stared at him a moment before backing down, perhaps realizing that she’d reached a dead end.
Or perhaps she realized that what her son said was true.
Whatever the case, she was shaken and frightened by Henry’s orders.
She didn’t want to lose her son but she was positive that would happen. It was tearing her up inside.
“So I am to lose my other love,” she murmured, turning away. “You and your father have the same sense of honor, the same sense of suicide. You do not think of yourselves first.”
Val could hear the tears in her voice and was coming to feel badly for her. He knew that he was all she had left.
“Mother,” he said quietly. “What is our family motto?”
Margaretha closed her eyes, tears stinging. “Ante mortem animo.”
Val nodded. “Courage before Death,” he whispered.
“I can promise you that I will show much courage before death can catch up to me. It may be tomorrow or it may be in thirty years. Who is to say? But I want you to know something… I have a great deal to live for. There is a woman at Eynsford that I very much wish to marry and I am going to do everything in my power to ensure that I live long enough to do that. I do not like these orders, either, but they are from the king and I have no choice. But mark my words… I shall return. I will do my duty and I shall return.”
Margaretha believed that he believed he would.
Whether or not he did… only God knew. Before she could reply, men began entering the solar and she knew her time with her son was ended.
She had said what she wished to say and now it was in God’s hands.
Val’s sense of duty was stronger than most, no matter how terrible the orders.
Without another word, she left the chamber as Val began to speak to his men. She could hear her son’s soft baritone as he began to explain a mission that most sane men would run from. I am to arrest the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Sane or not, no man in England had the courage her son had. Valor’s character was his namesake.
And he would have that innate sense of courage until the very end.