Nigel asked cautiously, “Why do you wish to speak to the priest?”
Hugh drank some ale. “I want to see if he can corroborate a story I heard at Chippenham.”
Nigel stared at Hugh’s face. It might be more relaxed than it had been yesterday, but it was as unreadable as ever. “What story was that?” he dared to inquire.
“I would rather not say until I know that it is true,” Hugh replied pleasantly. He rinsed his fingers in the bowl of water that had been provided for that purpose.
For some reason, Nigel found himself shooting a look at his daughter. She was feeding a piece of bread to one of her dogs. Her face was as unrevealing as Hugh’s.
Nigel had a feeling that he was venturing into dangerously deep waters.
He cleared his throat. “I have been thinking, lad, that perhaps you and Guy might come to an understanding that you would recognize his right to the title if he would formally recognize you as his heir. He has no sons. after all…”
His voice petered out under the ironic look in Hugh’s gray eyes. “I thought you wished to see Guy replaced because you held him responsible for the murder of Lord Roger-and of Geoffrey as well.”
Nigel revolved his ale cup in his fingers and replied wearily, “Roger and Geoffrey are dead and nothing can bring them back. The way things have fallen out thus far, I think that it might be wisest for you to settle for what you can get, Hugh. Certainly it would be safer.”
“I have to know the truth,” Hugh said with a burst of sudden, fierce intensity. “Can’t you understand that? If it turns out that Guy had nothing to do with Roger’s or Geoffrey’s death, then perhaps I would consider the course you have just named. But first I must know the truth!”
Nigel couldn’t answer him.
Pale sunlight slanted in through the east windows of the hall. The clouds were evidently lifting.
Cristen said, “Perhaps you could send a few of the knights to Evesham with Hugh as an escort, Father.”
“I don’t need an escort,” Hugh said.
“Yes, you do,” Nigel contradicted him.
Hugh’s mouth set in a stubborn line. Before he could object farther, however, Nigel said, “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, Hugh. You must allow me to safeguard your journey.”
“Of course he will allow you to do that, Father,” Cristen said.
Silence from Hugh.
Finally he said, “Thank you, sir. You are very kind.”
Nigel sighed with relief and leaned back in his chair. “When do you wish to leave?”
“Immediately, if you don’t mind.”
“I will tell Thomas and two of the other knights to make ready,” Nigel said.
“Thank you,” Hugh said again.
Nigel pushed back his chair and stood up.
“I will go to my herb garden and get you some more of my headache potion,” Cristen said.
“I’ll come with you,” Hugh replied.
They stood inside the shelter of the herb garden shed, holding each other close.
“I wish we could get married right now,” he said fiercely.
“I know.”
He rubbed his cheek against the silky brown hair on the top of her head. “Your father’s idea may not be a bad one after all. If I could get Guy to name me as his heir, then we would be able to marry.”
“We’ll see,” she said. “First you must find out the truth you need to know. After that we’ll think about Guy.”
“All right.” His arms around her tightened. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”
She wanted to cry and fought very hard not to.
“I know,” she said again.
“I’ll talk to this priest. He will know if Alan’s story was true.”
“Hugh…what if your mother is still at Evesham?”
She felt him shiver. “Then I will see her. I can’t keep running away from her forever.”
“If Alan’s story was true, then I think she is very much to be pitied,” Cristen said.
Hugh’s shivering increased. “Aye. I suppose so.”
She tipped up her head and kissed him on his jaw. “Let me mix up that headache potion for you to take with you.”
Reluctantly, he loosened his arms. “All right.”
She went to the shelves and took down a stoppered bottle. He watched her small, competent hands as they mixed the medicine.
“What I could really use is something to keep me from getting sick to my stomach,” he said. “There’s nothing more humiliating than heaving up your guts in some stranger’s house.”
“I’ll give you a flagon of barley water as well.”
She had almost finished when they heard the sound of feet pounding down the path outside the shed. The door of the shed opened and Brian’s flushed face peered in.
“Hugh! A rider has just come from Malmesbury with news that the king is besieging the castle. His army is there right now!”
Hugh’s startled eyes flew to Cristen. The formerly prosperous little town of Malmesbury was but a few miles to the northwest of Somerford. They had buried Geoffrey in the abbey churchyard there shortly before one of Gloucester’s men, Robert fitz Hubert, had captured the castle and burned the town. The castle was still held by fitz Hubert for the empress.
“Go with Brian,” Cristen told Hugh. “I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished here.”
He flashed her a smile and was out the door.
The visitor who had brought them the news was one of the monks from the abbey. He was talking to Nigel in front of the fire in the Great Hall when Hugh came in.
Nigel signaled for Hugh to join them.
“This is Brother Justin, Hugh,” Nigel said. “Abbot Theobold sent him to inform us of what is happening in Malmesbury.”
“I thought Stephen was besieging Wallingford,” Hugh said.
“Aye, so did we all,” Brother Justin replied. He was a man of about fifty, but tall and lean and strong-looking. “Apparently he decided that Wallingford was too much for him and turned west. First he stormed and took the castle at South Cerney, which Miles of Gloucester’s son-in-law had fortified to serve as a link between Gloucester and Wallingford.” Bitterness edged the monk’s voice. “Then he turned toward Malmesbury.”
“Both South Cerney and Malmesbury castles are within the borders of Wiltshire,” Nigel said to Hugh. “Do you think that the king has attacked them in order to put Guy in his debt?”
“Aye,” Hugh returned cynically. “And I suspect that Stephen has every intention of collecting on that debt one of these days.”
Nigel turned back to Brother Justin. “Is there aught that we can do for the town, Brother?”
“Abbot Theobold was hoping that perhaps you could take in some of the townspeople until the siege is finished,” the monk replied. “Many of them have taken refuge in the abbey, but we have not the space nor the provisions to shelter everyone who is fleeing the bombardment.”
“Of course we will help,” Nigel said. “Those poor townsfolk! They had just started to rebuild Malmesbury after fitz Hubert burned it such a short time ago.”
“Thank you, Sir Nigel,” the monk said gratefully. “I will tell my abbot of your gracious offer.”
At this moment, Cristen came into the hall.
“Here is my daughter,” Nigel said, raising his hand to beckon her over. “You must allow her to offer you some refreshment, Brother, before your return journey.”
“Thank you, Sir Nigel,” the monk said again. “You are very kind.”
“Cristen, will you see to it that Brother Justin has something to eat and to drink?” Nigel said as she joined the men in front of the fire.
“Of course, Father.”
He answered the question in her eyes. “It seems that the townsfolk of Malmesbury need a refuge from the siege. Many of them have fled to the abbey, but there is not room enough there to accommodate all who have begged for shelter. I have said that we would take in some of them until the siege is lifted.”
“Of course we will,” Cristen said with warm sympathy. “What horrors those poor people have been through this last month!”