“The king won’t ask for you. There is no reason for him even to know that you are here,” Nigel said. “Just stay in the midst of the knights and you will be perfectly safe.”
It was cold in the bedroom and Nigel shook out the cloak and settled it over his shoulders.
“All right,” Hugh agreed mildly.
“Stephen is an impressive man, Hugh,” Nigel said. “I think he will surprise you.”
The amused look came back to Hugh’s face. “Will he?”
William came into the room with the polished dagger ready to be thrust through its leather holder at Nigel’s belt.
“I’ll change my own clothes and get out of your way, sir,” Hugh said.
“Very well.” Nigel’s voice was gruff. “I hope to God this dinner comes off all right. I never thought I would be entertaining the king!”
Stephen arrived an hour later, accompanied by his main military commander, the Fleming, William of Ypres, and a number of lesser lieutenants. Hugh saw him for the first time when he came into the Great Hall and took his place at the high table between Nigel and Cristen.
Stephen was indeed an impressive-looking man. In his fifties, he was yet tall, fair, handsome and splendidly built. Hugh watched as he bent his leonine head toward Cristen and made some comment. She smiled in reply.
Like Nigel, Cristen had dressed in her finest garments in honor of the king’s visit. Her smoothly brushed hair was topped by a golden circlet from which fell a gauzy veil. She was wearing a fur-lined mantle over her deep red tunic.
Hugh thought she was the loveliest thing he had seen in all his life.
“The king looks younger than I thought he would,” Thomas said. Hugh was sitting with a group of the younger knights in the middle of the hall.
“He seems very amiable,” Lionel commented.
Hugh took a sip of his wine and said nothing.
“This should be a feast to remember,” one of the other knights confided. “They were cooking in the kitchen all morning long.”
It was a feast indeed. Cristen and her staff did Somerford proud, serving up a meal that was every bit the equal of the meals Hugh had eaten at the earl’s castle of Chippenham.
He ate hungrily. It was amazing the way his appetite had come back after last night. Even the mushroom stuffing, which he did not usually like, tasted good to him.
The main part of the meal was over and the servants were in the process of serving the sweetmeats when one of the pages who were waiting on the high table came to tell Hugh that the king desired to meet him.
Hugh dropped his eyes to mask the flash of anger that shot through him.
I thought I could trust Nigel not to do this!
His face expressionless, he made his way around the tables and approached the high table. Stopping in front of Stephen, he went down on his knee.
“Your Grace,” he heard Nigel saying, “this is the young man you asked about.”
Hugh shot a quick look at Nigel’s face and realized that this introduction was Stephen’s doing, not his.
“You may rise,” Stephen said.
Hugh stood and looked at the king, who was seated far above him.
Stephen regarded him across a tray of sweets. “So,” he said, “you are he who claims to be the son of Roger de Leon.”
He sounded merely interested.
“Aye, Your Grace,” Hugh said.
The king leaned back in his chair as if he were perfectly relaxed. “Sir Nigel has told me that you were raised by my faithful servant, Ralf Corbaille, Sheriff of Lincoln.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” Hugh said again.
Stephen’s blue eyes scanned Hugh’s face. “And I am to understand that for all the years that you lived with the sheriff, you did not know who you really were?”
“That is correct, Your Grace.”
Hugh was doing his best to disguise the anger he felt at this forced meeting, but from the sudden frown on Stephen’s face he was afraid he had not been completely successful.
Then Stephen asked the one question that Hugh did not want to answer: “And where does your allegiance lie, Hugh? With your anointed king or with the rebel, Gloucester?”
“Are you asking that question of Hugh Corbaille or of Hugh de Leon, Your Grace?” Hugh replied steadily.
Stephen’s gaze sharpened. He might be an indecisive man, but Hugh could see that he was not stupid.
“I am asking both of you,” the king said.
Hugh clasped his hands lightly behind his back. “Hugh Corbaille is the owner of three small manors who owes his feudal duty to the king, Your Grace,” he said. “At the moment, Hugh de Leon owns nothing except his sword.”
Stephen’s graying golden brows drew together. “If you are indeed Hugh de Leon, your mother’s brother is one of Gloucester’s chief supporters,” he said grimly.
“And my father’s brother is one of yours,” Hugh returned.
“Let me remind you of this, Hugh whoever-you-are,” Stephen said. “All of England’s earls hold their honors solely at the will of the king. And I have named Lord Guy to be Earl of Wiltshire.”
Hugh bowed his head. “I perfectly understand, Your Grace,” he said softly.
Stephen’s frown deepened. This interview was not going the way that he had planned. This boy, with his de Leon eyes, was perfectly courteous, perfectly respectful, but…
Stephen waved his hand in royal dismissal. “You may return to your supper, Hugh Corbaille.”
He emphasized the last name, the name that was pledged to him.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Hugh knelt once more, then backed away from the high table. Before he turned to make his way back to his own table he shot a quick look at Cristen.
She was looking very grave.
He tried to look reassuring.
Then he had to turn away and go back to the knights.
21
One of the reasons Nigel had found it so easy to persuade Hugh to delay his visit to Evesham was that Hugh had had visions of spending a few more nights with Cristen.
That had been before the king’s visit, of course.
As it was, Hugh spent the night in the Great Hall with the rest of the knights, listening to Ranulf snore and thinking about his interview with Stephen.
How did the king know I was at Somerford?
Guy must have told him that Nigel was the man who had discovered Hugh and introduced him into Chippenham, Hugh thought, as he lay on his straw pallet in the dark and chilly hall. Stephen could not have been certain that Hugh was still present at Somerford, but if the king had asked for him directly, then it wouldn’t have been possible for Nigel to lie.
It could have been worse, Hugh told himself philosophically. I might not have made a friend of the king, but neither did I make an enemy.
At this point, however, he was truly stuck at Somerford until the king had left the district. If Stephen suspected that Hugh was planning a visit into Gloucester’s territory, the king might very well arrest him.
Stephen would have to return to the siege of Malmesbury on the morrow, Hugh thought with a resurgence of hope. The king could not remain here at Somerford indefinitely. He would have to return to his troops.
That would mean that Hugh would get his bedroom back. And once everyone was asleep, he and Cristen…
With one part of his mind, Hugh knew that what he had done with Cristen, and what he planned to keep right on doing, would be perceived by others as grossly immoral. He knew others would think that he had betrayed Nigel’s trust and his hospitality by bedding his daughter under her father’s own roof.
But what he felt for Cristen and she for him transcended all the standard moral tenets of church and of society. He could no more keep away from her than he could keep from breathing the air that he needed to live. They belonged to each other.
They would marry. As soon as he learned what he needed to know about his past, they would marry. Then they would never be separated again.