And perhaps yours too, I thought, compassion bringing tears to my eyes as I watched Hrype hunch in pain.
‘Sibert is no murderer,’ I said shakily. ‘Whatever Baudouin’s witness may say, he is wrong when he says he saw Sibert kill Romain. Sibert was with me, and I will swear it before the highest authority in the land.’ I spoke grandly but I spoke true. Or so I believed.
Slowly Hrype straightened up and turned to look at me. His eyes held mine and I found I could not look away. It was as if he were searching my mind, testing me, assessing my courage.
I don’t know what he concluded but I fear that I disappointed him, for he turned away and I thought he slumped a little.
‘I will!’ I repeated recklessly. ‘If there’s a way I can prove I’m telling the truth’ — yet again I cursed my fluent lying, which had convinced those who counted that I’d been with Edild all along — ‘then explain it to me and I’ll do it!’
He stared at me for what seemed a very long time. Then eventually he said, ‘We are told of this witness who claims to have seen Sibert’s attack on Romain. You were on the road at the time. Did you see anybody? I am thinking,’ he explained, ‘that if you have the courage, you might retrace your footsteps, find this man and ask him to reconsider. If you were to say that you know Sibert is innocent because you were with him all the time, possibly this witness will realize he is mistaken.’
Once I was over the initial shock, I tried to calm my mind and think carefully. Had I seen anyone? Had there been someone on the track? Sibert and I had encountered fellow travellers in plenty once we were on the road leading inland from the coast, but on that journey across wild, empty country, there had been nobody and, indeed, few signs of human habitation at all.
Then I remembered.
‘There was a woman by a well!’ I shouted. Hrype instantly hushed me. ‘Sorry,’ I whispered. ‘Sibert and I were so hot and thirsty. We’d kept up such a pace all the way from Drakelow — we were both scared that Romain would catch up with us and Sibert wanted to get out on to the road, where he thought we’d be safer because there would be other people about. But I couldn’t go on any further without water and when we saw her with that bucket, dipping in her drinking cup and pouring the lovely cool water down her throat, I wouldn’t go on until we’d begged her to give us some too.’
Hrype stared at me. ‘This was close to where Baudouin claims Sibert killed Romain?’
‘Yes. Very close.’
‘Could she have witnessed the murder?’
‘I suppose so, yes. Since we passed right by her, Romain probably did too, and she might have followed him for some reason.’ I hesitated, but only for a moment. It was better if Hrype knew the whole story. ‘We did see Romain that day,’ I said. ‘But it was he who attacked Sibert, not the other way round. He was after the crown, of course. He jumped on Sibert’s back, taking him completely by surprise, and they fought and Sibert managed to get his knee into Romain’s — er, up between his legs. But Romain had a knife and he would have killed Sibert if he hadn’t fought dirty!’ I was trying not to cry. The memory was still far too fresh, caustic in my mind. ‘And besides, Romain was so much bigger and stronger, and although I really liked him and I had no idea it’d lead to him being killed and I’m so sorry that he’s dead, it wasn’t fair on Sibert — ’ I was crying in earnest now, tears soaking my face and my nose bunged up — ‘and anyway it was what the crown wanted. Sibert had it and it wanted to stay with him.’
I sensed Hrype nod and he murmured, ‘Yes. It would.’ Then very gently he asked, ‘What did you do, Lassair?’
‘I warned him,’ I said between sobs. ‘I saw that Romain was about to attack with the knife and I said, Now, Sibert, get your leg up! and he did and it hurt Romain so much and that’s when he stopped fighting and fell, but he was alive when we left him, I swear on all the gods that he was!’
Hrype had his arms round me and it was very comforting because he smelled like Sibert. I relaxed against him and cried out all the pain, anxiety and grief of the past few days. For quite a long time he simply held me and waited — really, I hadn’t realized he could be so kind — and finally, when I sniffed, wiped my sleeve across my face and sat up away from him, he just said, ‘Better now?’
I nodded. It was very restrained of him, I thought, when he must be dying to ask if I’d agree to his suggestion. It was the one tiny chance we had of saving Sibert; of course I would agree.
When I told him so, for the first time I saw him really smile.
SIXTEEN
Baudouin discovered very quickly that living in the pampered style of Gilbert de Caudebec and his household was not to his taste at all. The focus of everyone’s eyes, from Gilbert down to the lowliest scullion, was the baby, and Baudouin had little or no time for babies. It was, he decided, trying to force a smile as he endured yet again Gilbert’s exhortation to watch and admire what seemed to him an unexceptional infant, far too feminine a household for a man such as himself to find comfortable. The young wife, secure in her role as mother of the son and heir, seemed to have spread her frills and fancies around the whole place. She was a comely woman, plump still with milk fat and with generous breasts whose white skin pressed up above her tightly laced gown, but any attraction she might have held for Baudouin was eradicated by her conversation, which always reverted to the same topic. Baudouin thought to himself that he was not used to women, although-
No. Now was not the time to think about that.
He wanted desperately to be gone but he had to stay. Gilbert was still resolved not to release the crown until he had made what he termed vaguely as further investigations. Neither would he permit the execution of Sibert of Aelf Fen; the course of action he was proposing over that matter was causing Baudouin growing anxiety.
In an attempt to take his mind off his worries, abruptly Baudouin strode out of the hall, leaving Gilbert and his wife lingering over their breakfast and staring up at him with their mouths gaping. He called curtly for his horse to be saddled — he did not agree with Gilbert that servants ought to be spoken to courteously; they were only servants, God damn them — and went out for a long ride.
He had managed to keep abreast of what was happening in the south. There were many rebel lords in the area — even his neighbour at Dunwich had risen up against the king, lost his manor and, like Baudouin, was waiting nervously to hear his fate — and for sheer self-preservation they did their best to pass on to one another what scraps and rat-tails of news they heard.
The rebellion had been a disaster. The man for whom they had risked everything had not even come to fight with them; Duke Robert had not set so much as a foot on English shores. Yes, he sent troops, but almost to a man they had either been drowned or captured. The rumour that he would arrive triumphantly in England in early July never amounted to any more than that. His spies had managed to get word to him of what was happening in Rochester and, wisely, Duke Robert opted to remain safely in Normandy.
Would it have made a difference if he had been with us? Baudouin wondered as, blind to the beauties of the summer day all around him, he cantered across the lush grass. The Norman lords of England had risen to support him, truly believing England would be more secure if she were united with Normandy under Duke Robert’s rule. Perhaps, he reflected, the essence of why they had failed lay in that very fact: that Duke Robert had let other men fight his cause for him and only planned to turn up in time to lead the victory march.
They had backed the wrong man.
When Rochester fell, it was said that Odo had sent word to the king suing for peace. Amazingly, it seemed he had proposed that the rebels’ forfeited lands should be restored to them, in exchange for which they would promise to serve the king faithfully ever afterwards as their rightful lord. Baudouin could scarcely believe it. Was Odo so secure in his pride that he believed it was going to be as simple as that? He had done the rebels no favours by his high-handed assumption of easy forgiveness. Rumour had it that the king, inclined at first to be lenient, was so incensed by Odo’s arrogance that he declared the Rochester rebels must be hanged.