Chapter 19 #2
But surely, Galeran thought, circling the room as his mind was circling the problems, whatever the king's attitude to the law, he could not support the absurdity of taking a baby from its mother's breast and giving it to an unwed man to raise.
No, of course he couldn't.
Unless he was afraid to offend the Church. Flambard was a bishop, an eminent representative of the Church, no matter how little he deserved that honor.
Galeran knew, with bitter certainty, that Henry Beauclerk would do nothing that might jeopardize his long-sought prize, his hold on the Crown of England.
He turned and circled the other way. Were Lowick and Flambard already here?
Were they together nearby, making plans?
What plans? Galeran didn't see what new twist they could come up with, but he'd never underestimate the cunning of a man like Ranulph Flambard.
And Flambard's ambitions could entangle the whole of Galeran's family.
He stopped, suddenly feeling surprisingly alone.
He'd grown up as part of a close-knit family, and once he married, there had been Jehanne who had soon become—as the Bible put it—his rib, his helpmeet, part of himself. He could hardly remember a time when she hadn't been by his side, ready to discuss, argue, advise, object, comfort.
On crusade, he'd felt as if he had left part of himself behind, but he'd found Raoul and an unexpectedly deep friendship.
Now, however, he stood alone, most of his family back north, his father skulking at Waltham, and Raoul who knows where.
Vague thoughts of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane flickered in his mind, but he laughed and shook them away. He was not abandoned and betrayed. He had simply come here too early.
He heard the bells sound for terce and crossed himself, offering a prayer of his own. He was beginning to worry about Raoul's absence, however, and sent another prayer that nothing had happened to Aline. She was as innocent as Donata in all this and should not suffer.
A moment later Raoul hurried in, surprisingly flustered and disheveled.
There was no time to talk, as he was only a pace ahead of the page sent to lead them to the king's chamber.
Raoul was of little practical help here, since he had no official status and didn't know English ways and customs, but Galeran was immensely pleased to no longer be alone.
The king awaited them in the same rich chamber in which they had been presented to him the previous day.
On this occasion, however, Henry sat firmly on his throne, crown on his head.
There were no courtiers or visitors here, though a number of people were present.
Galeran tried to assess them all without taking his attention from the king, who was greeting him.
A monk at a high desk, ready to record the proceedings.
Two lords and a bishop. A couple of pages ready to run errands. Two armed guards.
The king had stopped speaking, so Galeran bowed again. "I thank you again, my liege, for your attention to this small matter."
"No matter is too small for my attention, Lord Galeran," said Henry, smiling like a wolf. "Have you news of your father?"
Galeran hoped his face was as expressionless as he wanted it to be. "No, sire. I am sure I would have heard if his condition had worsened, but I am concerned. As soon as the matter of the babe is settled, I intend to ride to Waltham Abbey."
Before the king could comment, the door opened to admit Flambard in full glory of gold-trimmed bishop's vestments, crook in hand. Behind him trailed Lowick, Brother Forthred, and a clerk. Brother Forthred looked at Galeran and smiled slightly, as if he scented revenge.
Galeran ignored that and studied Raymond of Lowick.
It was the first time he'd seen the man since leaving for the Holy Land, since the man had shared a bed with Jehanne. Lowick was still impressively handsome, damn him, but Galeran knew he wasn't worth the surge of rage in his gut, a rage that tried to pull his lips back from his teeth in a snarl.
He dragged his gaze away, fighting to calm his breathing. This was a place for law and reason, not vengeance. But part of him wanted to draw his sword and spray the elegant chamber with Raymond of Lowick's blood.
Raoul did have a purpose here after all. He'd stop such madness.
Galeran suddenly hoped it would come to a court battle. He wanted it. He needed it to drive away a deep pain that reason, understanding, and forgiveness did not seem to touch.
Flambard and Lowick were making their bows to the king.
Henry nodded to the two men, then called for extra benches to be placed in front of him. "This is not a formal legal matter, my friends. Sit at your ease as we try to settle it to the satisfaction of all."
Galeran and Raoul sat on one bench, Lowick and Flambard on the other, with the monks standing quietly behind. Galeran found it tempting to stare at his enemies and focused instead on the king.
"First," said Henry, "we make known to you our advisers in this. His lordship, the Bishop of London."
The elderly, sinewy man nodded.
"Henry Beaumont, Earl of Warwick."
Warwick was still a young man, but authority and strength stamped every line of his face and body.
"And Ralph Bassett, my legal adviser."
Bassett seemed surprisingly genial, with a scrubbed face, but Galeran had heard of him. He was a close companion of the king's and a blade-sharp student of the law.
"Does anyone object to these men hearing our discussion," Henry asked, "and advising me in this?"
No one did, though Galeran wished he knew more of the observers. The Bishop of London was supposed to be a worthy man. The Earl of Warwick, however, had been with Henry on the day his brother died, and might have had a hand in murder.
Galeran put aside such concerns as the king himself began to lay out the situation. "As we understand this case, my lords, while you, Lord Galeran, were away from England on the Enterprise of God, your wife bore a child to Raymond of Lowick. Does anyone here dispute that fact?"
Silence answered him.
"News, thankfully false, was brought to England of your death at Jerusalem, Lord Galeran, perhaps leading the Lady Jehanne and Sir Raymond to think themselves free to be intimate—"
Galeran almost objected, but he saw Raymond move and be restrained by the bishop. Very well. He, too, would wait and see just what plan they had.
"Upon your return, however," Henry continued, "their sin was clear to all. Raymond of Lowick confessed himself to the Bishop of Durham, and we assume the Lady Jehanne confessed herself to her priest and to you, her earthly lord."
This, it became clear, was a question requiring an answer.
"Yes, sire," said Galeran. He'd hoped to keep this hearing away from discussion of Jehanne's sin. Now he could only hope this wasn't heading straight toward the question of the suitable punishment for adultery.
It was.
"Sir Raymond," said the king, "received penance of the bishop—the penance which is contested here. What penance did the Lady Jehanne receive?"
Galeran tried an old device. "Sire, as soon as I heard of the bishop's wise judgment, I announced that my wife should perform the same penances, in prayer, in offerings to God's work, and in the raising of the child."
Henry nodded. "Thus leading to our dilemma.
Unfortunately, as King Solomon found, a child cannot be divided between two contesting parties.
" Galeran thought they had passed over the treacherous spot, but then Henry added, "Did you not think it your duty, Lord Galeran, to impose some additional penalty upon your wife? "
"No, sire." Why did he feel as if he confessed a sin? Probably because of the disapproval emanating from all these men.
"And yet, I am told you struck her to the ground when first you met."
And who told you of that? "I did, sire. An action I regret. My wife's anguish and genuine repentance are punishment enough."
Flambard interjected at this point with a snide chuckle, "You are too fond, Lord Galeran. Too fond. It is easy enough for a woman to weep and wail. It does not serve good order for them to use that ability to avoid just punishment."
Galeran was hard pressed not to grin at the trap he was about to spring. "You think I should have beaten her, my lord bishop? But since my wife took on herself the penance imposed on Sir Raymond, would he not then have to be beaten too? In fact, it could be said that I owe him a blow...."
Lowick erupted to his feet, hand on sword.
It was Flambard who snapped, "Sit down!" while glaring at Galeran. There was something more than just thwarted anger in his eyes, however. Why had this turn so worried the bishop? Did he not want the matter coming to violence?
Henry had his chin on his hand and was watching the reactions with great shrewdness.
"We will leave the matter of the lady's just deserts to a later time.
At issue here is the matter of the child, and the rights of the bishop to decide her placement.
I am surprised, Lord Galeran, that you are so determined to keep a cuckoo in your nest."
There were any number of impassioned things Galeran could say, but he kept it practical.
"The babe is at the breast, sire, and as all know, to deprive a child of its mother's milk is likely to harm it.
I see no cause to injure an innocent. Since I wish to have my wife by my side, the babe must remain.
And Donata, being a girl, will not threaten the interests of our future children. "
"So you are willing to raise the child with the care and affection you would give to your own offspring, and arrange for her future well-being?"
"I am, sire."
Henry turned to the other bench. "Sir Raymond, I doubt you can do as well for your daughter."
"And yet she is my daughter, sire," said Raymond firmly.
"But you have no safe means to feed a baby. And if we were to give you the child when she is weaned, how are you to care for her then? You have no wife. You have no home."