Chapter 15
The next morning Galeran visited his father, who was trying very hard to look frail.
"This is better, anyway," said Lord William. "Keep him unsure of us."
"Not hard when you don't know what you plan to do."
"Don't scowl at me, lad! In the end all that matters in this world is our honor and our soul. I have to think on this."
"I understand, Father."
"Watch out for Flambard. He'll do what he can to break us." Lord William gripped his hand. "I'll be praying for you."
Galeran went to mount his horse, reminding himself that he believed in prayer, and believed in a just but merciful God.
He'd rather have had his father by his side, though.
No monarch would reject William of Brome's support if offered.
A monarch unsure of it might decide to break the family's power entirely.
He could imagine Bishop Flambard urging that.
The road into London teemed with mountebanks, merchants, gentry, and lords, doubtless woven through by all kind of thief.
They could have used the horses to force a path, but with women and a babe in their midst that wasn't so easy, so they went with the slow-moving flow, reminding Galeran again of his thoughts about destiny.
He was grateful, at least, to have lodging.
Raoul had distant kin—wine merchants—living in the city, and had sent a messenger ahead to ask hospitality.
They'd just received word that Hugo and Mary would be delighted to house their party, though they warned space would be tight.
Still no opportunity for a peaceful, private night with his wife, he feared. Galeran found that he wanted his peaceful life at Heywood perhaps more than ever before. It was so close, so nearly in his grasp, yet could be snatched away at the king's whim.
It hardly seemed possible, but within the city walls the crowds were worse.
In places, the crush of people clogged up entirely and Galeran had to order his men to use horse and whip to break up the blockage.
It took them hours to reach Corser Street.
Their hosts apologized for the limited space in their narrow house, but Galeran knew they were fortunate.
While Jehanne and Galeran arranged their party in the two available rooms, with the grooms and men-at-arms left to sleep out in the sheds behind the house, Raoul undertook the task of finding any news.
He returned in an hour with a basket of pies and a net of cherries. "The king's holding open court," he said, dusting off his clothes. "Of course, the point of it is to accept homage from as many people as possible."
"What's the mood out there?" Galeran asked, pouring his friend some of Hugo's wine.
"Favorable to Henry, I'd say. The previous king wasn't any more popular here than in the north and the general tone seems to be 'good riddance.' Especially with King Henry making that special declaration on his coronation day, reestablishing the old laws."
Jehanne was off with the baby, but Aline was present, struggling to untie the net to liberate the plump cherries. She stopped her work and frowned at them. "I hope he's not too keen on law and order."
"Why not?" asked Raoul, strolling over to slash the net with his knife. Galeran noticed that even that simple operation seemed to generate a great deal of tension and colored cheeks. How Aline could think she still wanted a religious life, he didn't know. But would Raoul commit to her?
He put such matters out of his mind.
Aline picked up a cherry and moved away from Raoul. "What if the king wants to enforce laws against adultery?"
Raoul speared a cherry on the sharp tip of his knife. "Is that likely?" he asked Galeran, then put the cherry into his mouth. He never took his eyes off Aline.
Cheeks cherry-red, she popped her cherry into her mouth.
"I hope not," said Galeran, wanting to bang their heads together. "No one has ever accused Henry Beauclerk of being tenderhearted in judgment."
"Hah!" Aline spat a cherry pit into her hand and looked at Galeran. "An understatement. He threw a man off the battlements of Rouen with his own hands for opposing him."
"A clear lesson about opposing the will of princes."
Aline's severe eyebrows settled lower. "You can't truly find this funny."
"No, of course I don't. We have to trust to Henry's good sense and his desire to have my father on his side. Raoul, did you find out anything else of interest?"
Raoul sheathed his knife. "Not really. I asked about Raymond of Lowick, but no one knew anything of him. I heard news of the Bishop of Durham, though. He arrived here yesterday."
"Flambard's here already?" said Galeran with a chill of unease. "I hoped he'd move more slowly. I'm sure he stands our enemy. Apart from his ambitions in the north, he'll never forgive us for thwarting his plans."
"He may be toothless. It was clear in two words that he's a hated man."
"Oh, yes, he is that, but hatred hasn't stopped him yet. He seems almost magically able to slither out of trouble."
"You choose interesting enemies," said Raoul with a grimace. "No one I spoke to was sure his day was over. His charm seems to be a rare skill at obtaining money. What king can ignore that?"
"Henry won't dare support someone so unpopular," said Galeran, but again he was merely concealing his fears. Ranulph Flambard was a very clever man and as Raoul said, kings had a fondness for men who could provide them with money.
Raoul shrugged. "I assume you'll attend the court tomorrow and seek an audience. We'll get better information then."
Jehanne came in on those words, carrying a contented baby. Her pale face became even more drawn. "Tomorrow? So soon?"
Galeran went to put an arm around her. "We didn't come haring down here to sit twiddling our thumbs, love."
"Oh, I know," she said, bouncing the baby nervously. "But I can't help but worry. I wish I could come with you...."
"I don't think that would help."
She grimaced at him. "I know, I know. I just feel so helpless. Can I at least talk strategy with you?"
It would clearly soothe her, so Galeran agreed.
Raoul spread out his pies and cherries, and the four of them sat to eat and discuss plans for the morrow, though there weren't really any choices.
Galeran would dress his finest, take gifts—including items from the Holy Land—and hope.
If the king gave him a private audience, he'd lay the situation before him.
Unless he gained the impression that someone had been before him and laid traps. But he didn't say that, for he had no strategy for that situation other than his wits.
As he and Raoul went to share the chamber set aside for them, Galeran asked "Do you want to come tomorrow?"
"I should stay behind to guard the women."
"The farther you stay away from the women, the better."
Raoul contemplated his bed as if it were a mystery. "I asked her to marry me."
"And she said no?" Galeran didn't know which surprised him most.
"She doesn't want to leave her home."
"That's foolishness. I'm sure you can persuade her."
"I wish I were as certain. So," he added more briskly, "you want me to accompany you?"
"Why not? Lowick will hardly try to snatch the baby from this busy household and Flambard has no jurisdiction here. I'd value your opinion of Henry Beauclerk."
* * *
That night, Raymond of Lowick rapped at the door of the Bishop of Durham's sumptuous house near Westminster.
An armed guard opened it, doubtless necessary for such an unpopular person.
Since coming to London, Raymond had realized just how unpopular Flambard was.
He wished he didn't have to deal with such a man, but who else could support him against William of Brome?
It was for Jehanne, he reminded himself. Beautiful Jehanne, who had been forced into her marriage even though she was as good as betrothed to himself. After all, old Fulk had mentioned it a time or two.
And now she was in danger. Galeran was surely only biding his time. He'd shown his true feelings when he'd struck Jehanne down. Raymond cursed the fact that he'd left her behind to face such violence.
And what of the child? Raymond was genuinely fond of the babe, or as fond as any man could be of such a tiny creature.
She was his first child as far as he knew, and he felt honor bound to protect her.
Galeran was a good man, but no man could forget the origins of such an infant.
At his most merciful, he'd give her to some peasant to raise.
Raymond wished it need not come to death, but feared there was no other way to protect Jehanne and Donata.
And to have Heywood. That was a less noble goal, he knew, but it burned in him all the same.
Just as King Henry had thought England his from birth, Raymond had thought Heywood his from the moment Fulk's last son had died. He was Fulk's favorite. He was acknowledged to be one of the finest young warriors in the north. Who else deserved to marry Jehanne?
When Fulk's interest had turned to Brome, Raymond had fanned his friend Eustace's faint interest in the holy war against the Moors. It had been easy enough, and had left the coast clear.
Or so he'd thought.
To see Heywood and Jehanne presented to that scrawny runt Galeran had almost made him choke on his bile. It wasn't right. It couldn't be right. God had showed that by denying Galeran a son until the crusade, and then by taking that son to give Raymond his chance.
As Raymond was ushered into the presence of the bishop, he was firm once more in his belief. It was God's will that he have Heywood, Jehanne, and Donata. Even at the cost of Galeran of Heywood's life.
"My lord bishop, welcome back to London...."
* * *