Chapter 10
Galeran was pleased to have a large body of armed men to accompany them back to Heywood, for he remembered the bowman. If the first bolt had struck a finger-length lower, he could be beyond these earthly cares.
In a spiritual sense he should welcome death, but he shuddered to think what might happen to Jehanne if she were left unprotected. He wore coif, helmet, and shield, therefore, and took care to ride well away from Jehanne and the child in case of more projectiles.
So, who was responsible for the bowman? If he'd been following Galeran's party for days, he could have found any number of chances to kill. More likely, he had come with Forthred, part of the same plan.
Flambard's plan.
Without Jehanne's swift action, Forthred might well have succeeded in taking charge of the child at Heywood. Without Galeran's presence, he would almost certainly have succeeded at Burstock. In that case, Jehanne would have felt impelled to accompany Donata.
At one stroke, Flambard would have the two pawns he wanted.
If at the same time Galeran had been killed in the ambush, the whole affair would have been over before anyone could object.
With the authority of the Church behind him, Lowick would have been married to Jehanne and installed in Heywood within days, and there would be little his father, or even the king, could do about it short of war.
In fact, the king would be more likely to support Flambard. So if Galeran's father objected to Lowick's possession of Heywood, Rufus would have a reason to come north and break the powerful family of William of Brome.
Raoul rode up beside him. "Why the frown? You don't really think there'll be another attempt on your life, do you?"
"It's unlikely, but I don't discount it. For all I know, a healthy price has been put on my death, and it's easy enough to kill a man. That crossbowman was simply unlucky. But I'm not exactly quaking in the saddle."
"Then why the frown? You routed that cleric cleverly."
"It won't stop there." Galeran glanced at his friend. "I gather you've never heard of Bishop Flambard."
"Aline explained something of the case. An unpleasant creature, but under protection of the king."
"He's more than that. He's the king's right-hand man. For years, he's been virtually running the country, and now that the king's raised him to the bishopric of Durham, he and my father are contestants for power here in the north."
"I'm still not sure why the bishop would think it worth supporting Lowick, though. Such a powerful person can't need such a weak ally."
Galeran shook his head. "Look at the situation here.
The bishopric of Durham controls a sweep of the north from Carlisle to Durham itself.
On the other hand, my father holds many estates, including Brome, the major barony in the area and with a castle that commands a crucial ford.
Close by are the baronies of Heywood and Burstock, both closely allied to Brome, since I am married to Hubert of Burstock's niece, and another niece is my brother Will's wife.
Did I mention that my mother's brother holds the coastal lands, including two important ports? "
Raoul whistled. "So your family has this part of the country in its fist and a real ability to interfere with the bishop."
"Exactly. And my father is not the type of man to take abuses in silence."
"But if the bishop can control Heywood, he will have significantly weakened the power of Lord William of Brome."
"And if my father objects, the king has an excuse to break him."
Raoul scanned the countryside with his sharp eyes. "The bishop and his pawn will be back, then, one way or another."
If there were other murderers lurking in the woods, however, they were too cautious to attack such a large and alert troop. The party arrived safely at Heywood in the early afternoon.
Making a show of it, Galeran went to take the babe from Jehanne so she could dismount, and carried Donata into the keep.
"Galeran," said Jehanne as they entered the hall. "I would give her up for you. I would. Don't pledge yourself to her cause."
He returned the babe to her. "I have already done so.
She is an innocent, Jehanne. I wouldn't give a serf's babe over to wolves, and I will not give Donata to Flambard and Lowick.
At the very least, she was born in my castle and is under my protection.
Go tend her. And then," he said with a smile, "I would like a bath. "
* * *
Jehanne left Galeran with anguished love in her heart. At times it seemed to her he was good to the point of madness, and she wanted to berate him as she had when they'd been young. But she knew his strong sense of justice didn't blind him to reality, and that his wits were sharp.
As he'd proved today.
But he was idealistic, and that was dangerous.
As she called for her women, she remembered all too well those times when her father was alive and Raymond had visited Heywood and flirted with her. She'd always been terrified that Galeran would take offense and make it a fighting matter.
What if it came to fighting now? Galeran was a good soldier, but no match for one like Lowick, who was bigger and known throughout the north for his fighting skills.
She'd spoken the truth earlier. Though it would tear her heart into tiny pieces, she would give Donata to the wolves rather than see Galeran die to protect her bastard child.
Her women brought warm water and clean cloths and she let them change and bathe Donata as she washed and drank some ale to refresh herself from the journey.
She knew she hovered too close to Donata.
She was in the habit of doing nearly everything for her, but now she made herself stand back.
The time might come when she would need to be able to act on cold logic.
Distance might help.
Then Donata cried, her milk gushed forward in response, and she reached for her babe with joy and despair in her heart.
* * *
Galeran had John take his armor for cleaning, then went to praise Walter of Matlock for his assistance to Jehanne.
"I knew well enough, Lord, that you'd not want either of them snatched away to Durham."
"Would you do the same, though, if the bishop excommunicate me?"
"Would he be so foolish as that, Lord? To try to unbless a crusader?"
"Ah, yes. I keep forgetting that I'm supposed to glow with glory."
Having the Holy Land brought to mind, Galeran went to find his packs, and carefully unwrapped several items. The wrapping itself might appeal to Jehanne, for inside the leather outer layer he had used a fine cloth from the east called qu 'tun, which held dyes well.
The precious items, however, were inside.
Reverently, he took out rolled palm leaves from the road to Jerusalem, a silver cross holding water from the Jordan, a withered branch from the Garden of Olives, a pouch of dust from Calvary, and a chip of stone from a place supposed to be the Holy Sepulcher.
He contemplated another package, a spherical one, with hesitation, but in the end he unwrapped to revealed a small skull. "The skull of John the Baptist as a child, Lord!" the eager seller had whispered. "For you only..."
It had made him want to laugh as few things had then, so he'd bought it to share the joke with Jehanne.
He hadn't needed to bring the skull, of course, to tell the tale—especially since others had bought the same relic without realizing the absurdity—but he'd intended to see how long it took her to realize what an impossible item it was.
Miracles could perhaps preserve vials of the Virgin's milk, or wine from Cana, but it would take more than a miracle to preserve the childsized skull of a man who died in his thirties.
Now, however, there was nothing at all humorous about a baby's skull. He ran a hand over the smooth white bone, tracing the edge of the eye sockets, thinking that doubtless a mother had grieved over this child's death as Jehanne grieved over Gallot.
As he himself grieved, or could...
He wrapped the skull again. It was the ideal gift for Ranulph Flambard, for he wanted rid of it.
With luck the bishop would not see the absurdity, for many clever people did not.
It would satisfy Galeran to see the man build a rich reliquary for it.
If Flambard did see it for a fraud, he could read into it what he wanted.
After all, Galeran had only promised the bishop something from the Holy Land, and it was that.
He had the scribe write a courteous letter. In it, he thanked the bishop for his assistance in smoothing the problems between himself and Raymond of Lowick, and begged him to accept the gift and remember all in Heywood in his prayers.
Jehanne joined him just as he was dispatching the messenger. He told her what he had done, but didn't tell her what the relic was. When, he wondered sadly, would the freedom to share such a joke return to their lives?
"I suppose it's wise to thank him," she said, inspecting the other items reverently. "Though it seems a waste."
More and more he wished he could tell her, and was even tempted for a moment, but—taking strength from Christ on the mountain—he resisted.
She felt the leathery palm fronds. "What sort of tree is a palm? These are more like the leaves of a bulrush."
So he described palm trees to her as the bath was prepared, and olive trees as well. He told her of heat and desert and how ordinary Bethlehem was.
"Were you disappointed?" she asked as she supervised the addition of cold water to hot.
"Only for a moment. Then I liked the thought that our Christ lived as an ordinary man. Not the glowing prince of the manuscripts, but a man with dust on his skin and calluses on his hands."
He spread his own hands thoughtfully and Jehanne took them, turning them to trace the tough pads of skin created by a lifetime of training for war. "How else would a man's hands be?"
"It sustains me," he said, "that thought. That Christ really was a man for a time, and perhaps understands men."