She wrung her hands. “Why can’t you be satisfied with what you already know? You can’t change anything, Hugh! Your father has been dead for fourteen years.”
He said to her what he had only ever said to Cristen. “I feel as if I am but half a person without my memory. I feel as if I am a cripple. I have to know what happened to me if I am ever going to be whole again.”
She looked into his eyes, long and deep. Then she shuddered. “All right. But I cannot tell you, Hugh.” Her face had a haunted look. “You will have to talk to Father Anselm.”
“Then that is what I will do,” said Hugh.
23
After leaving his mother, Hugh returned to his room, ripped off his clothes, tumbled into bed, and dropped like a stone into the sleep of utter exhaustion. He awoke to the morning light streaming through the partially opened shutter at his window. The bedroom was freezing. His stomach felt perfectly steady and he was hungry.
He dressed himself and made his way down to the Great Hall for the breaking of fast.
The first person he saw when he came into the room was Isabel, seated at the high table next to Simon. Hugh hesitated, then slowly made his way through the tables where the rest of the household were eating. As he passed the table where Thomas was sitting, he gave the young knight a brief, reassuring smile.
He reached the high table and took the empty seat at Isabel’s side. They exchanged restrained good mornings.
Simon leaned a little forward so he could see around his sister and said, “I hope you are feeling better this morning, Hugh.”
“Thank you, sir. I am.”
“I understand that you were in Worcester shortly after the attack.”
“Aye,” Hugh said. He waited while a page put a cup of ale in front of him. “We arrived toward evening, after Gloucester’s troops had left the area.”
Simon frowned. “What condition was the city in?”
“It was as you might expect,” Hugh replied. He picked up his cup of ale. “The livestock had been driven off, women raped, men murdered, and fires were burning everywhere.”
A little silence fell as those at the high table digested this horrific news.
Hugh took a thirsty swallow of his ale.
Then Isabel asked fearfully, “How did the convent fare?”
“It was stripped of most of its furnishings and the outbuildings were burned,” Hugh said. He forbore to mention the novices who had been kidnapped. She could find that out from someone other than her son.
Simon said defensively, “Miles of Gloucester is waging war just as Stephen is. The only difference is that Miles is more successful than the king.”
“Really, Simon,” Isabel protested indignantly. Spots of color burned in her cheeks. “To rob and burn a convent! How can you possibly justify that? Even in times of war, the Church should be sacrosanct.”
“I understand that the soldiers were drunk,” Hugh said.
“The poor sisters,” Isabel mourned. She turned to her brother. “I should never have let you talk me into leaving them. I should have remained in Worcester. I could have helped.”
“You were right to leave,” Simon said forcefully. “And the sisters should have had the sense to leave with you. I offered them the shelter of Evesham.”
Juliana, who was seated on Hugh’s other side and who had been listening to the conversation with avid curiosity, now said earnestly, “I hope you will remain here with us at Evesham, Aunt Isabel.”
Lady Alyce seconded this invitation from her seat on the far side of Simon.
Isabel was looking very distressed. “Thank you, but I feel that I must return to Worcester.”
“Really, Isabel, you might think of us for a change. It’s not as if you were indispensable to the convent, you know,” Simon said angrily.
She flushed. “I know I am not indispensable, but at least I can be another pair of hands.”
“Men from the town were helping the nuns set things to rights,” Hugh said mildly. “I do not think that you should return to Worcester until things have settled down, my lady. I have little doubt that the king will send troops to reinforce the garrison there and with the way feelings are running in the town, it is no place for the sister of a known supporter of Gloucester to be found.”
“Hugh is right,” Simon said. “You had much better remain here, Isabel, where you will be safe.”
She shook her head slightly, as if in refusal.
“Please,” said Hugh.
She turned and her eyes met his. After a moment, she bit her lip and said unwillingly, “All right, Hugh. If you really think that is best.”
“I do,” he said.
“Are you going to stay with us as well, Hugh?” Juliana asked brightly.
Hugh continued to hold his mother’s gaze. “No,” he said. “This morning I leave for Winchester.”
The day was cold and the sky was a hard clear blue when Hugh and Nigel’s three knights rode away from the great stone walls of Evesham. They pushed forward steadily and after several hours had crossed the border of Gloucestershire and entered Wiltshire.
That was when Hugh informed his escort that he planned to make a brief stop at the castle of Abrille.
“Abrille?” Thomas said in surprise. “Why do you wish to go there, Hugh?”
“I have some questions I’d like to have answered,” Hugh replied evenly. “It isn’t far out of our way and my business won’t take long.”
Thomas exchanged a look with his fellow knights. Clearly Hugh was not going to tell them anything. Shrugging his shoulders, Thomas resigned himself to the delay, settled into his saddle, and followed Hugh without comment when he turned off the main road to ride east along a narrow woodland path.
At least it wasn’t raining.
When Abrille finally rose before them, Thomas saw that it was an old-fashioned wooden motte and bailey castle that was smaller than Somerford. It was situated on a small river but, oddly enough, it was not surrounded by a moat.
The guards at the main gate challenged Hugh’s party and asked them to state their business.
While Hugh talked to the sentry, Thomas cast his eyes over the castle and its environs. He figured it could be reduced by siege in a matter of two days.
The sentry sent someone to the castle with a message. Hugh and the knights waited.
The messenger returned and at last they were admitted through the gate and into the outer bailey.
Utterly mystified, Thomas and his companions dismounted and allowed grooms to take their horses. Then they trailed after Hugh as he crossed through the inner gate and into the inner bailey.
The baileys were in good order, Thomas admitted to himself. And the men seemed to be well disciplined.
What the devil is Hugh doing here? he thought as they were met by a squire, who escorted them up the ramp and into the Great Hall of the castle. A small group of men were seated before the fire, engaged in a game of backgammon.
The squire led Hugh up to the gray-haired man with the aquiline nose who was sitting closest to the fire and announced, “Sir Hubert, here is Hugh Corbaille of Keal.”
From his position a few feet behind Hugh, Thomas could see how all of the men around the fire were staring at Hugh. Evidently his resemblance to Guy was not going unnoticed.
“I am very sorry to trouble you, Sir Hubert, but I have a very important matter to discuss with you.”
Hugh’s voice was quiet but underlined with unmistakable authority.
The older man lifted his splendid nose. “Aye? And just what is this matter, Hugh Corbaille?”
“It is something private,” Hugh said. “May I speak to you alone?”
Sir Hubert frowned, and for a moment Thomas thought he was going to refuse. Then, moving painfully, as if his joints were hurting, he got to his feet. “Come along to the solar with me,” he said grimly.
“Thank you,” said Hugh.
The two men crossed the floor in the direction of a door that was set into the hall’s east wall.