Chapter Twenty-One
Vesper had never been to Winchester Castle but she’d certainly heard tale of it. Coming in from the northeast on that gloomy morning, she could see the vastly large complex to the southwest, looming above the town that surrounded it like the jewel in a crown.
The village of Winchester itself was a fairly large establishment, having been one of the places that the Duke of Normandy began laying down his foundation of conquest so many years ago.
Winchester Castle had been part of that and as the party from Selborne drew near, the size and structure of the castle began to come into view.
It was positively enormous, a huge fortress surrounded by a moat big enough to be a lake.
It was past the nooning meal by the time they arrived in town and most people had gone about their morning business, but there were still a great many villeins who paused before their homes or places of business to watch the gang of knights and two small women ride by.
The homes near the edge of the town were newer, of waddle and daub construction and pitched roofs, while the homes nearer the center of the town and towards the castle were older. Some weren’t particularly well-kept and more than one home could be seen in the midst of repairs.
Vesper thought it was all quite fascinating, even fascinating enough for her to forget why they’d come.
She’s spent the last several hours in silence, riding alongside Val, keeping her dagger in her hand in case some fool tried to harm him.
In truth, it had been rather exhausting to be so edgy all of the time and unable to relax, so by the time they’d reached Winchester, she was feeling a good deal of fatigue.
But she pushed it aside, ignoring the aches and the hunger because she knew that, now, they were quickly approaching what would soon become Val’s fight for life.
Henry was waiting for him in the walls of that enormous castle and she wouldn’t let her guard down until it was all over.
Until Val was free.
On the other side of Val, Margaretha hadn’t uttered a word, either.
She kept that enormous broadsword across her lap as she rode and Vesper was growing increasingly concerned for the older woman.
Vesper knew that if she was exhausted, then Margaretha must be feeling it, too.
But to her credit, Margaretha remained stoic and calm.
That seemed to be her usual manner, which Vesper was coming to appreciate.
But she wondered just how that calm demeanor would hold once Henry confronted Val.
The very fact that Margaretha had come at all showed that she was a lioness who wasn’t about to let her cub fall victim to Henry’s anger.
The great gatehouse of Winchester faced east so they skirted the moat, heading for the big structure at the head of the bridge that spanned the moat.
Vesper’s attention was torn between the castle and its ominously big walls and the village off to the west that they had recently passed through.
People were still watching them, like a passing parade, but Vesper’s attention ended up on the gatehouse when they finally reached it.
That was when the situation became interesting.
Passing through the gatehouse hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, the horses’ hooves creating hollow sounds as they clopped across the bridge that led into the vast bailey of Winchester.
But once they reached the bailey, littered with outbuildings and another smaller set of walls that isolated the keep off to the north, it was as if a massive army was waiting inside for them.
Soldiers were strewn all over the ward and makeshift camps were dotted all through it, accompanied by the appropriate rubbish and scents.
It smelled like a zoo of men. As the incoming escort came to a halt, armed men approached from the direction of the keep, making their way through the hundreds of soldiers in the bailey.
“My lord,” a heavily-armed soldier bearing a crimson tunic with the royal lion on it addressed d’Vant. “Henry has sent me to bring the prisoner to him. He has seen your party coming from the east for quite some time and demands his presence.”
D’Vant dismounted his war horse, turning it over to one of the grooms who had rushed out from the stables.
“No need,” he told the soldier calmly. “I will escort de Nerra.”
“But Henry said….”
Before d’Vant could respond, Tevin suddenly appeared from around the rear of Dacian’s horse.
He had just dismounted his steed and, in hearing the soldier’s request, decided to intervene.
He wasn’t going to trust Val’s safety to soldiers he didn’t know.
It would be a feather in the cap of any soldier to claim he was the one who killed Canterbury’s assassin.
“The prisoner is not your responsibility,” he snapped. “De Nerra will be taken to Henry but not by you.”
The mighty Earl of East Anglia was not to be tangled with; every fighting man in Henry’s service knew that. The soldier backed away somewhat.
“Aye, my lord,” he said, now seemingly nervous that he had roused Tevin’s anger. “Henry asked that he be brought to the hall.”
“Then he shall. Now, get out of my sight.”
The soldier backed away to stand with the other men he’d brought with him as du Reims charged past them, heading in the direction of the hall in search of the king and leaving d’Vant to escort Val.
But the armed soldiers sent by Henry were eyeing Val quite critically as the man slid off his horse and removed his saddlebags.
In spite of his shackled wrists, he went to help his mother from her mount.
Vesper, meanwhile, had dismounted, still holding that dagger as if it meant life or death for Val. There was no way she was going to relinquish it. As she went to stand next to Val and Margaretha, one of the armed soldiers that had come to take Val to Henry shouted.
“Murderer!”
Val didn’t even react; he didn’t so much as look up. He was in the process of trying to convince Margaretha to turn the sword over to d’Vant but Vesper heard the shout and it infuriated her. Dagger in her hand, she moved in the direction of the heavily-armed soldiers.
“Who said that?” she demanded. “Who was it? Are you so cowardly that you shout from a group of men so you can hide behind them? You should be ashamed!”
Val’s head snapped in her direction when he heard her angry voice. Quickly leaving his mother, he rushed to Vesper just about the time d’Vant got to her. Dacian, too, had heard her angry challenge. Val had her by the arms as d’Vant put himself between Vesper and the armed soldiers.
“My lady, your bravery is astonishing,” d’Vant said, a twinkle in his eye. “I should be so fortunate as to have such a courageous lady to protect me. But it would not do to challenge those men. They are ignorant and you would only be wasting your breath.”
Vesper was so angry that she was trembling. “Why do you let men treat Val like this?” she asked. “You know he is innocent yet he bears chains as if he is guilty. Why do you let him shame himself so in public?”
Dacian looked at Val, regret in his expression. “It was not my idea, my lady, I assure you.”
Vesper’s brow furrowed and, puzzled, she turned to Val also. “Then why do you wear these shackles?”
Val had his hands on her arm; his wrists were chained too closely together for him to grasp her any other way.
“It is better this way,” he said quietly.
“Dacian will not get in to trouble with Henry and men will believe I have had no special treatment because Henry has ordered my arrest. We are simply following the wishes of the king, so do not trouble yourself over fools that believe only rumor.”
He was pulling her back, away from the armed men, but Dacian turned around and ordered the group away. Grumbling, they went. Once they were far enough out of range, Dacian motioned to Val.
“Come along, then,” he said. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
Val still had hold of Vesper, fearful of what would happen if he let her go. She was fully willing to attack a group of grown men with her little dagger because she believed they had slandered him.
“Agreed,” he said. “Would you mind escorting my mother? I fear my hands are full.”
That was metaphorical as well as literal as far as Dacian was concerned; Lady Vesper was quite a handful, to be sure. Taking a few steps in Margaretha’s direction, Dacian held out a hand to her.
“Lady de Nerra,” he said politely. “I would be honored to escort you into Henry’s hall.”
Margaretha was pale with exhaustion but her posture and the tone of her voice suggested otherwise. “Take me to Henry,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I have a need to speak with him.”
“Indeed I will, my lady.”
“Immediately, Dacian.”
Dacian was again glad that he wasn’t a target of Lady de Nerra’s rage and he didn’t envy Henry one bit.
The man was going to have trouble on his hands, very soon.
Without hesitation, he began to lead the woman towards the hall that had been built in the time of the Duke of Normandy as the rest of the group, including Val and Vesper and Calum, followed.
Since the duke built Winchester and the castle had served, for many years, as the seat of England, it had a long hall built of stone with a steeply pitched roof that was designed for large gatherings.
Rather than a hearth to warm the space, it had a fire pit in the center of it.
As the group approached, they could see smoke escaping from holes near the roofline.