Chapter 15 #2
It took Galeran and Raoul half the next morning to progress out of the walled city and along the long curve of the Thames to Westminster Hall, where the king kept his household and held court.
The churned-up road was thick with lordly trains, hopeful merchants, and the merely curious.
The congestion was worsened by unauthorized stalls lining every road, and by a small army of beggars.
The river might be an alternate route, except that it, too, was crowded with all manner of vessel, and thus much more hazardous.
Troops of soldiers regularly forced through the crowds to knock down the stalls and chase off the beggars, but as soon as the guards moved on, the hawkers and mendicants popped back, crying out to the passing lords so the noise seemed a physical presence.
It was like swimming through mud, thought Galeran dazedly, tossing some coins to a cripple who looked genuine—surely those scarred stubs where her legs had been couldn't be fake.
Eventually, however, they emerged into the open space around the great Westminster Hall and its sister building, King Edward's noble abbey. Here, too, people gathered in huge numbers, but the space could accommodate them and their noise.
Where did so many hawkers come from? Galeran wondered as a man thrust horse bells at him, extolling their quality. Create a crowd, and the people who catered to crowds popped up as if sprouting from dragon's teeth.
There was a kind of organization here, though.
A number of well-disciplined men-at-arms patrolled the area, and temporary stables had been set up to one side for the lordly visitors' mounts.
The merely curious and the more unruly sellers were regularly driven back out of this enclave into the jammed streets.
With space to breathe, Galeran began to find all this interesting.
He'd been to London only once—to join the crusade.
This time, however, the atmosphere seemed different.
The mood was lighter, and under the chaos lay a sense of limits or even order.
It could already reflect the nature of the new king, and he had to consider whether it promised good or ill for his cause.
A lighter mood was surely good, but as they'd discussed the day before, a very strong inclination toward law and order might not be the best thing for his cause.
He led his party over to the stables, and they gave their horses into the care of the grooms there.
Then a cleric came forward, bearing wax tablets. "Your names, kind sirs?"
Galeran's nerves twitched, but he replied calmly. "Galeran of Heywood in Northumbria, and Raoul de Jouray from the Guyenne."
The man noted their names without expression.
"His majesty King Henry is most gratified that so many wish to pay homage to him and congratulate him on his accession.
The sheer numbers, however, make it impossible for him to give private audience to everyone at this time.
If you will enter the hall, my lords, the king passes through from time to time. "
He moved on to greet the next party.
"Very interesting," said Raoul as they walked toward the huge wooden building, which was finely carved and painted and hung with banners. "Your Henry seems to like organization."
"And be good at it, which is more to the point. If his hall was full of people all chivvying for a moment alone with the king, feelings would be much sourer. This way, those not given audiences won't feel too disgruntled."
Raoul grinned. "You think as I do. The names are sent to the king and he chooses whom to see. Well, let's go in and see if you are chosen."
"Probably not. My father would be, but I don't have his power."
"You're his son."
"If anyone here knows that. I might have made a point of it, but I doubt there's any chance today to have a private audience. We may have to wait weeks, and that might not be a bad thing."
"Or perhaps you just want to put off the moment. If need be, I could give you refuge in Guyenne."
It was the first time lighthearted Raoul had mentioned such a thing, and Galeran's throat seized up. What did Raoul sense here that led him to make the offer?
Having returned safe to England, he had no wish to leave her shores again, but if it were that or Jehanne at the stake, he would flee into exile. Given the chance.
They joined the stream of handsomely dressed lords passing through the open great doors of the hall, and found the main chamber full but not oppressively so. It was a huge space and could handle the crowd and even the noise of many voices.
"What's the betting," Raoul murmured "that when the crush reaches its limits, the king comes out to appease everyone and send them on their way?"
"I'm sure you're right, but at least the waiting is to be civilized."
Musicians played in one corner, tables were laid with food, and servants passed around with cups of wine. Galeran and Raoul took one each, tasted, and raised their brows at each other. It was good.
Galeran worked his way toward a space near a window and said quietly, "I'm vastly grateful that I'm not trying to fool Henry Beauclerk."
"Perhaps he just has efficient servants."
"You can tell a man by his servants."
Galeran leaned against the wall and tried to relax.
He knew he could be here for hours. He'd grown accustomed to this kind of time-wasting while on crusade.
It irked him, but there were occasions when just being present was essential to favor and welfare.
He had no doubt that a record was being kept of who was here and how speedily they had come.
And who had not come.
His father's absence would already have been noted, and he did not know what consequences there might be to that.
He was sure, too, that some of these men were king's men, here solely to listen to conversations. Probably that was obvious to everyone, for all he could hear was safe talk of crops and horses.
Then he heard one mention of Duke Robert—a speculation as to what he would do.
"If he's got sense," said a sinewy man with a hooked nose, "he'll keep his fingers out of England. It's not 1066 now."
"But what if some here want him?" murmured a plumper man, eyes sliding around as if he could spot a spy. "Not me!" he added hastily. "But I've no mind to see us up against each other."
"I doubt anyone wants that. That's excellent reason to make it plain that Henry Beauclerk is rightful king."
Perhaps to avoid this dangerous talk, the sinewy man turned and introduced himself to Galeran and Raoul—a Robert of Keyworth, near Nottingham—then settled to talking safely of the weather and the price of wool.
Then Galeran thought to ask, "I wonder if you know a Raymond of Lowick, who married a woman near Nottingham."
"Why, yes. His wife was a distant cousin. Sadly, she died."
"So I heard." Trying not to sound particularly interested, Galeran asked, "Do you know the cause?"
"The spotted fever. She was never strong."
A small suspicion could be laid to rest. Lowick had not murdered his wife as part of a long-laid plan. "Poor lady."
"Indeed. Sir Raymond was much distressed, as I remember. You know him well? A fine soldier."
"Very fine. He is a distant connection only."
"Ah. It will not be long now, I think, before the king comes out," Robert remarked. "The crowd is pressing."
Before Galeran could comment, a touch on his arm caught his attention. He looked sideways to see a young man, perhaps a page. "My lord of Heywood?"
"Yes?"
"If you would come with me, my lord, someone wishes to speak with you."
"My companion, Raoul de Jouray?" Galeran asked, heart already speeding.
"That is as you wish, my lords."
They parted from Robert of Keyworth and followed the youth through the crowds, risking no more than a look between them.
It could be that some friend, or a friend of his father's, had spotted them and sent a servant to fetch them.
But Galeran half hoped, half feared that he was being taken to the king.
Now that the moment had come, he wasn't sure he was ready to put his case, Jehanne's case, to the master of all this efficiency.
To the man who had thrown a miscreant off the walls of Rouen.
To the man who might have arranged his brother's murder.
The youth led them across the hall, but not to some distant acquaintance. He carried on through a side door and out into the fresh air. From there, he took them around the building to a well-guarded entrance that opened into a small chamber.
Westminster Hall, like Burstock, was a wooden building and thus able to have any number of small rooms around the central great chamber.
This room contained two armed guards, a monk at a desk which held a large book, and a number of young men coming and going.
Even as they entered, one youth left on a errand.
Shortly after, another came in with a set of wax tablets.
The monk took them and scanned them quickly.
Then he murmured a message, and the clerk hurried off.
The monk then looked at them. Know a man by his servants. This one was healthy enough to be a soldier, with shrewd eyes in a lined but quite genial face. Though he wouldn't allow himself the indulgence, Galeran felt he could trust him.
As long as he wasn't up to mischief.
"My lords," the monk said, "the king is pleased you have come so speedily to pay homage to him. Please go on through."
The next room also contained two guards, who eyed them with swift competence. Then one opened a farther door and let Galeran and Raoul into the king's presence.
This large, richly decorated solar chamber was nearly as crowded as the hall, and wherever the king was, he wasn't in his great chair on the dais.
That sat empty. Galeran scanned the room and found Henry simply by the fact that no one had their back turned to that one spot.
Then it was easy because Henry was wearing his crown.