The castle was laid out very similarly to Somerford, Thomas thought. It was just built on a smaller scale.
Hugh and Sir Hubert disappeared.
The squire who had escorted them said courteously to Hugh’s knights, “Would you care for some wine?”
“Thank you,” Thomas replied. “That would be refreshing.”
The knights who had been playing backgammon gestured for them to take a seat.
Thomas sat down, stretched out his legs, and resigned himself to answering questions about Hugh’s resemblance to Abrille’s overlord.
Twenty minutes later, Hugh and Sir Hubert were back. Both men looked very grave.
When Hugh saw his men sitting around drinking wine, he made an impatient gesture for them to rise.
“Won’t you stop for some wine yourself?” Sir Hubert asked with stiff courtesy.
“No, thank you, sir,” Hugh returned. “We must be on our way.”
Sir Hubert did not press him to change his mind.
Ten minutes later, Hugh and his escort were riding through the gate of Abrille and heading back toward the road to Winchester.
The rest of the journey went smoothly. They spent the night in an abbey stable, as the monks’ guest quarters were already filled to capacity by refugees from Worcester. They left the abbey as soon as the sun was up, and by late afternoon they were riding through the Kingsgate into Winchester.
They proceeded directly to the cathedral. The knights waited in the courtyard with the horses while Hugh went into the church to see if he could locate Father Anselm.
He entered through the large front doors, walked down the side aisle, and stood quietly, looking around.
A priest who was too short and thick to be Father Anselm was kneeling in front of a statue of the Virgin. A young man dressed in the garb of a prosperous merchant knelt in one of the front pews, his head lowered into his hands. A number of old women were scattered here and there about the church, their lips moving in prayer.
The scent of old incense and burning candles hung in the cold air.
There was no sign of Father Anselm.
Hugh left the church and inquired in the courtyard for the residence of the priests. The building pointed out to him was an ordinary stone townhouse standing at the edge of the cathedral grounds. It in no way resembled the magnificent palace at Wolvesey that housed the Bishop of Winchester-who also happened to be the papal legate and King Stephen’s brother.
Hugh knocked at the residence door, which was answered after a minute by a woman who was obviously the housekeeper. She was short and heavy and had three distinct chins.
Father Anselm was not in at the moment, she told Hugh, but she expected him back for supper.
“I wonder if you would give him a message for me?” Hugh asked.
She nodded encouragingly, causing the three chins to wobble. “Of course.”
“Please tell him that Hugh de Leon desires speech with him. I will return later.” Hugh stepped back as if preparing to leave, but then he had a further thought. “Perhaps you could also say that I come with the blessing of the Lady Isabel.”
The housekeeper’s small button eyes glittered curiously as she pondered this enigmatic message. “I will tell him,” she said.
“My men and I will find lodging in the city and I will return at suppertime to see Father Anselm,” Hugh repeated.
She smiled broadly, revealing teeth that were startlingly white. “I will tell him.”
“Thank you,” Hugh said, and left.
He and the knights found an inn not far from the cathedral, and by the time they had seen to the stabling of their horses and eaten supper the day was growing dark.
Hugh left the knights to the warmth and camaraderie of the inn’s taproom and went out into the cold November air to return to the cathedral. He left his mail and his sword behind at the inn, but took the precaution of tucking a dagger into his belt. He did not want to be surprised again while he was unarmed.
The same housekeeper as before answered the door of the priests’ residence, and this time she told him that Father Anselm was in.
As soon as Hugh stepped into the house, he saw that it was built in similar fashion to Ralf’s townhouse in Lincoln. The front door opened onto a small landing, which had stairs going up to the residence’s main level. Also on the landing was a closed door, which Hugh knew hid the stairs that led to the basement.
The housekeeper took him up to the main floor. At the top of the stairs she turned left, leading him into a small unoccupied chamber.
“I will tell Father that you are here,” she said.
The candles in the room had not been lit and it was quite dark. Hugh peered around and saw that the furnishings consisted of two chairs, one stool, one charcoal brazier, and two small tables upon which reposed two half-burned-down, unlit candles.
The brazier was also unlit and the room was frigid.
The sound of male voices drifted to Hugh’s ears. The priests must still be at supper, he thought.
The housekeeper waddled back into the room with a taper and proceeded to light the candles on the two tables. She also lit the charcoal in the brazier and fastened the window shutters.
“Father is finishing his supper. He will be with you shortly,” she told Hugh kindly.
“Thank you,” he said.
Alone again, he could feel tension in every muscle of his body. His chest felt constricted and breathing was an effort. The pork pie he had eaten for supper was not sitting well in his stomach.
He stood by the brazier and stared down into the coals, which had not yet begun to give off any heat. He was shivering, but it was with tension, not with cold.
Finally he heard steps approaching, and then the tall figure of Father Anselm appeared in the doorway.
“Hugh,” the priest said. His voice was husky with emotion.
“Father,” Hugh returned. He was relieved to hear that his own voice sounded fairly normal.
The priest advanced slowly into the room. There was a strained look in his brown eyes and his fingers rubbed nervously at the cord around the waist of his brown robe. He looked at Hugh and said, “Mistress Alney said you wished to speak to me.”
Hugh said, “I have come to you, Father, because I am trying to find out about my past and I think that you can help me.”
For a long moment, Father Anselm stared at him in silence. The strain on the priest’s face was unmistakable. “I will give you some good advice, Hugh,” he said heavily. “Leave the past alone.”
Hugh shook his head. “I can no longer go on living with only half a life. I need to find out about my childhood.”
The priest moved to one of the chairs and sat down. His movements looked indescribably weary. “Haven’t you seen your mother? Surely she can answer your questions better than I.”
“She sent me to you.”
A spasm of some undefinable emotion crossed the priest’s face.
“How is Lady Isabel?” he asked. “I have been thinking about her and this raid on Worcester. Is she safe?”
“Aye. My uncle fetched her to Evesham before Gloucester’s men arrived.”
Father Anselm’s eyes closed briefly. “Thanks be to God for that.”
Hugh moved to the other chair, sat, and rested his hands carefully on the smooth oak arms.
Father Anselm asked painfully, “Why did the Lady Isabel send you to me?”
Hugh said, “You were the chaplain at Chippenham when I was a child. You must know the things that happened in the household.”
“What things do you want to know about?”
Hugh thought that the priest sounded afraid.
A little heat began to radiate from the brazier.
Hugh said, “I want to know about my mother and Ivo Crespin.”
The priest’s head jerked up. His back went rigid. “Where did you hear about Ivo Crespin?”
“I spoke to Alan fitzRobert, one of Roger’s old knights who is still in service at Chippenham. He told me about it.”