Of course, they might have been the result of his illness.
“What was the matter with you this morning?” Philip asked abruptly. “You seem perfectly all right now. What was it that kept you from participating in the mêlée?”
The look in Hugh’s gray eyes froze the blood in his veins.
“I was ill,” Hugh said.
Philip, who was a brave man, found that he did not have the nerve to inquire farther.
After a moment of distinctly uncomfortable silence, Nigel attempted to carry on. “Then you were in the chapel just now?”
“Aye,” said Hugh.
He looked at Nigel, his face as cold as winter ice.
Nigel, who wanted to ask if he had remembered anything, found that he couldn’t say anything.
“If you will both excuse me,” Hugh said. “I have something I must do.”
The two men stood and watched Hugh’s slender figure as he made his way across the inner bailey and out between the twin gate towers.
“What do you think happened while he was in the chapel?” Philip asked when Hugh was no longer in sight.
“Something that he doesn’t want to talk about,” said Nigel. “Which means, I think, that he is starting to remember.”
Cristen had also seen Geoffrey go down and she had come to the same conclusion as Philip. The blow that had felled Geoffrey had come from behind and had been intended as an execution.
She said as much to Hugh when he sought her out after he had returned from his visit to the chapel.
“Aye,” he said. “I believe you, Cristen.”
They were walking together along the horse lines, where the hundreds of visiting horses had been picketed to be taken care of by their own grooms. Hugh was going to check on Rufus, and on Geoffrey’s lame roan as well.
“Geoffrey’s death was Guy’s doing, Hugh, not yours,” Cristen said now, quietly.
The black stallion they were passing stamped his rear off leg and swished his tail irritably.
“He was killed because someone mistook him for me,” Hugh said.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Lord Guy recognized you.”
Hugh said in a strange voice, “Evidently he has.”
In reply, she slipped her hand into his.
They walked for another few feet along the line of tethered horses. The great war stallions, tired from their day’s exertions, munched on piles of hay while grooms brushed the dust out of their once shiny coats and picked the dirt out of their hooves.
Gray clouds were blowing in from the west, covering the blue sky of early afternoon. The smell of horses filled the air.
Hugh said in the same strange voice he had spoken with earlier, “I am Hugh de Leon, Cristen, aren’t I?”
“Aye,” she said matter-of-factly. “I believe that you are.”
A groom cursed as one of the stallions swung around on him with bared teeth.
“I think I knew it all along,” Hugh said.
Her fingers tightened around his.
He drew in a long, shuddering breath. “I remembered the chapel.”
“Did you?”
“I remembered the window, at any rate. I remembered the way the sunlight used to come through it. I remembered the way the dust motes used to dance in the air.”
He didn’t want to tell anyone, even her, about the brief vision he had had of a dead man in front of the altar.
He inhaled deeply once again. “So now I must decide what I should do next.”
“The first thing you must do is get away from Chippenham,” she said decisively. “You’re not safe here, Hugh. That has been made abundantly clear.”
With his boot he kicked a wisp of hay that had blown in front of them. “I think I shall go with Philip Demain to pay a visit to Simon of Evesham,” he said. “If Simon formally recognizes me as the son of Roger and Isabel, then Guy will have to pay attention to me.”
“For God’s sake, he has already paid attention to you,” Cristen cried. “He tried to kill you!”
“No.” Hugh shook his head. “He tried to kill an obscure knight who came to Chippenham in the company of one of his vassals. It will be a very different thing for him to try to kill his brother’s son.”
Cristen began to shiver.
He dropped her hand and reached his arm around her shoulders, as if he could give her some of his warmth. “Try to understand. This is something I have to do. If Guy is indeed responsible for my father’s death, then he must be made to pay for it. He already owes a debt for Geoffrey.”
Cristen tilted her head to look up into his face. “Why go to Simon, Hugh? Why not go to your mother?”
He stiffened. “Simon has power,” he said. “Isabel has none.”
A faint line appeared between her delicate brows. “Still…you are planning to go to see her? It will give her such joy to know that you are alive.”
His high cheekbones looked as if they might push out through his taut, pale skin. She was close enough to him to feel that he was trembling.
“I…I can’t,” he said after a while.
“Why not?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer.
“Hugh?” she said. “Why not?”
“I don’t know,” he returned at last. He stared down at her, his eyes glittering. “I don’t know, Cristen. All I know is that I dare not see her again.”
Guy le Gaucher looked around his packed hall, his eyes searching for one particular figure. When he didn’t find it, he turned and spoke to the man who sat on the far side of the woman whose place was beside him.
“Where is the boy?” he demanded. “For that matter, where are Nigel Haslin and his daughter? I don’t see them anywhere in the hall.”
Sir Richard Evril replied, “Shall I find out?”
“Aye,” said Guy. “Do that.”
Guy sat in brooding silence, drinking his wine and staring at the boisterous scene before him. His golden-haired companion tried to get his attention by leaning against him, but he ignored her.
If that boy has gotten away…he thought in fury.
It took Sir Richard ten minutes to discover that Nigel Haslin and all his knights had departed from Chippenham several hours earlier.
Guy was livid. “What about the body that lies in my chapel? Did they leave it?”
“They must have left it,” Richard said. “Certainly no one saw it being removed. If they had, they would have reported it to me.”
“Go and check,” Guy said.
Sir Richard looked as if he were going to object. The food was being served and he was hungry. One look at Guy’s face changed his mind, however, and without further comment he left the table to go to the chapel.
He was back before Guy had had a chance to take more than a few bites of the roast swan that was on his trencher.
“It’s gone,” Richard said. His veined cheeks were red with anger. “They took the body away and no one reported it to me.”
Guy slammed his hand down on the table and the blonde lady next to him jumped.
“I want that boy back here,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “I don’t want him showing that face around the countryside. If Simon of Evesham gets a look at him….”
“You can always say he is a bastard, my lord,” Richard said reasonably. “It is true that he has the de Leon eyes, but there is no proof that he came by them honestly.”
“You fool,” Guy snarled. “First of all, my dear brother was far too righteous ever to stray from the sacrament of holy matrimony. In truth, the great crusader had the soul of a priest.” Guy’s voice was full of contempt. “He only married to keep me from becoming earl.”
The blonde lady sitting next to him laughed knowingly. “You certainly don’t have the soul of a priest, my lord.”
“Shut up,” Guy said.
She shrank into herself and was quiet.
“Even the holiest of men may be tempted by a beautiful woman,” Richard insisted.
“You don’t understand,” Guy said impatiently. “That boy may have the de Leon eyes, but the rest of his face is a mirror image of my sister-in-law. That is why Nigel Haslin picked him up, of course. He saw the resemblance and thought to use the boy against me. Nigel has always suspected I had something to do with my brother’s death.” He glared at the woman next to him. “Which I didn’t!”