Hellion (33 page)

“
Richard!
” Alette’s face was ashen.

Rolf shook his head. “Nay. He had no means of spiriting her from the court. Besides, if he had, why take Lind, their horses, and Couper? Nay, my sweet wife. Knowing her child safe with us, Isabelle has, I suspect, gone to Normandy to fetch Hugh herself. That can be the only answer, I fear. I hope she was wise enough to travel with someone else going her way, for to travel alone is surely to invite disaster. She’ll probably go to Duke Robert and plead for his aid, since Richard is his liegeman. What a girl your daughter is, Alette. I want no headstrong offspring like that,” he told his wife.

“Nor would I give you another like her,” Alette said fervently. “I tried to be a good mother, Rolf. I did! But Belle was always too strong for me to handle.”

“We must pray for our lady’s safe return,” said Father Bernard in soothing tones. “I know that God is with Isabelle of Langston, for her cause is a just one. Trust in God, and His Blessed Mother, my children. We know that the lady Isabelle will return safely to us in the Lord’s time, and Hugh Fauconier with her.”

The priest led them all to the chapel.

Chapter 12

T
he king had not been forthcoming at all to Isabelle about the messenger from his brother. In fact he said nothing to her about Hugh, despite the fact she approached him when he was with the queen in the Great Hall and asked. Isabelle now knew what she must do. She sought out the household steward of Anselm, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was about to embark upon a pilgrimage to Rome.

“Two of my servants, falconers, must travel to Normandy,” she said. “May they travel with your train, Master Odo, that they be safe from robbers and other evildoers?”

“We leave on the morrow,” the archbishop’s steward said doubtfully.

“They can be ready,” Isabelle replied. “They have a merlin for the duke’s son, a gift from the king to his nephew.”

“A merlin for an infant?” The steward raised his eyebrow.

Isabelle laughed. “I agree,” she said pleasantly, “but the king would insist the bird be sent, and hand-delivered by my own falconers. What could I do?” She shrugged fatalistically.

“They may travel with us,” the steward said. “They must provide their own food, however. I will see they are given drink.”

“My thanks,” Isabelle said, pressing a coin into the steward’s fat hand. “They are good men, and I will rest easy knowing they travel in relative safety with the archbishop’s train.”

“They are fortunate to have so caring a mistress,” the
Steward said approvingly, his palm feeling the generous weight of the coin. “I will ask my master to pray for you and your family.”

“I am honored,” Isabelle said, curtseying and withdrawing.

“Lord Hugh is like to kill me,” Lind said nervously when Isabelle sought him out and explained her plan to him.

“Lord Hugh can do nothing while he is imprisoned by my brother,” she answered him.

“We will be discovered for certain, lady,” Lind fretted.

“No one will penetrate our ruse, I promise you,” Isabelle assured him. “We shall be brothers. You the elder, I the younger. I am called Lang. We are falconers, freedmen, traveling in our youth before settling down with a master. Though I have told the archbishop’s steward we travel to the duke’s court to deliver a bird, ’twas but a little lie. We shall not go there at all, and since the archbishop is not going there, his steward will not know whether we arrive at Duke Robert’s court or not.”

“Where are we going?” Lind ventured.

“To my ancestral home at Manneville,” Isabelle told him. “My lord Hugh was last seen there, and I will wager he is still there, imprisoned in my brother’s dungeon.”

“And if he is,” Lind spoke up more boldly now, “how can you and I rescue him, lady? If your brother is bold enough to jail my lord Hugh, will he listen to you? I think, lady, you will find yourself imprisoned as well.”

“I do not intend to beard my brother in his own den,” Isabelle said patiently. “All you and I are going to do is ascertain that my husband is at Manneville. Then we will go to Duke Robert’s court and lay our evidence before him. The duke will see that Hugh is freed,
and
the men who traveled with him. We must not forget the six Langston men and Alain, your fellow falconer. They will have been incarcerated by my brother as well, else they would have come home.”

“Unless they’re dead,” Lind said gloomily.

“I know my brother,” Isabelle replied. “He will have forced
the Langston men, and possibly even Alain, to serve him; he does not like waste. He would not feed them unless they earned their bread. But he could not allow them to go free.”

“And just how is anyone going to believe that you are a lad, lady?” Lind demanded. “You’ve not the look of a lad.”

Isabelle gave him some coins from her small purse. “Go to the town market, Lind, and purchase us the food and whatever else we will need for our journey. Pack it in our saddlebags, but be discreet. The fewer people who see you, the less the likelihood of our true destination being discovered.” She dismissed the falconer, then hurried off to find her friend, Mavis of Farnley.

“You’re surely mad,” Mavis said when Isabelle had told her of her plan. “I’m as big a fool for romance as you are, Isabelle. I’m not certain what you are doing is wise, but I’ll help you with your wardrobe. The brother who used to chaperone me when I first came to court went home some months ago to wed, but he left some of his clothing. I can give you several pairs of chausses and two cotes. I think there is a mantle you can have as well. You’ll have to find boots, Isabelle, that go halfway to your knee. You can’t wear those pretty dainty shoes of yours. Ranulf left a rather worn pair of boots. You’ve got a large foot for a woman, and his was small for a man’s. They just might do. And you’ll need knitted hose as well. We’ll need the privacy of your chamber to try these garments on. Can you get rid of your Agneatha?”

Isabelle nodded.

“Do so, and I’ll bring my brother’s clothing to you,” Mavis said. “Agneatha doesn’t know what you’re planning, does she?”

“Nay,” Isabelle said. “I cannot take her with me. Do not tell her that you know where I’ve gone, Mavis. It’s better she remain ignorant else she be frightened into telling by the king. See that she and my Langston men go home as soon as possible.”

“I will,” Mavis pledged, and then she hurried off to fetch the promised garments.

Isabelle wended her way through the king’s garden, where the two young women had been able to speak without fear of being overheard. Gaining her own chamber, she sent Agneatha off to Mistress Mary’s stall in the market to find her a new head veil. It was unlikely Agneatha would run into Lind, and if she did, it would give Lind an opportunity to practice his deceptive skills upon the maidservant.

A soft knock came upon the chamber door, and it opened to admit Mavis, carrying a small selection of garments. All were well made, of good material, but not so rich that it would arouse suspicion. The colors were dark and simple. The warm, dark brown mantle had a clasp that was of greenish bronze in a Celtic design. Isabelle tried everything on, and it fit.

Mavis giggled. “You have too much bosom for a boy.”

“Watch, and see,” Isabelle told her. Turning her back, she bound her breasts with a length of cloth, then whirled about to face her friend again. “Is that better, Mavis?”

Mavis, more serious now, eyed her friend critically. “Aye,” she nodded, “but what will you do about your lovely hair, Belle?”

“I shall cut it,” Isabelle said softly. “And I shall dye it with dark stain else its bright color attract attention I do not want. I see no other choice, Mavis, do you?”

Large, fat tears began to run down Mavis’s pretty face. “Your hair is so beautiful, Belle,” she sobbed. “Oh, do not do this foolish thing, I beg you! Can you not remain with the queen? Surely she will protect you.”

“I must find Hugh,” Isabelle said. “There is no other way, Mavis, and you know it. I cannot hide behind our good queen’s skirts forever. The king has still not told me of the messenger from his brother. I do not think he means to, either. Under those circumstances, how can I plead with him to send again to his brother, the duke, to go to my brother and search his
dungeons? It is all hopeless! I have to go, Mavis. Who else is there to aid Hugh Fauconier but me?”

“You’re right,” Mavis sniffled. “I do not think I could be so brave as you are, Isabelle of Langston. God and His Blessed Mother travel with you, my friend!” Then Mavis of Farnley ran from the chamber.

Quickly Belle wrapped up the clothing she had brought, and hid the bundle away where Agneatha would be unlikely to find it in the few hours remaining before her departure. And when her maidservant returned from Mistress Mary’s stall, triumphant, a beautiful veil of iridescent threads in her possession, Isabelle praised her mightily.

“It’s beautiful, Agneatha. The loveliest veil I have ever seen. My silver circlet will be perfect with it!” She clapped her hands gaily. “Let us celebrate your cleverness, my lass. Pour us both a goblet of that fine red wine the king keeps me supplied with, and we shall drink to the prettiest veil in all of Winchester. Nay, England!”

Giggling at her mistress’s good mood, Agneatha complied, pouring them both generous portions of the king’s vintage. Isabelle, however, remembered how the rich brew had affected her servant the last time she had tasted of it, and sure enough, Agneatha soon fell asleep once again, tumbling into her trundle to snore the night away.

Isabelle slept herself for several hours, waking in the darkest part of the night. She lay for several minutes, and then slipped from her bed. Taking up her knife, she sliced through her thick braid, biting on her lip so hard she tasted blood as she felt her hair pull free of her head. The faint firelight illuminated the plait now in her hand. Stirring the coals in the tiny fireplace, she laid the hair upon them, and then went to open the window so the smell would not awaken Agneatha. Pouring water from the pitcher that had been set in the warm ashes, she mixed a dark stain with it and, bending, dunked her head until it was quite thoroughly soaked. The stain was walnut, and she knew it would take immediately. She toweled the excess from her
head, adding the towel to the fire so it would not be discovered. Then carefully feeling her way, she evened out the line of her hairstyle, using the little pair of scissors that she possessed. She would take them with her.

Quickly she dressed, drawing on a pair of dark green chausses, gartering them tightly, and pulling the dark knitted hose on over them. Then she bound her breasts. Next came a linen jupe lined in soft light wool. The sea would be chilly. Over the jupe she wore two silk shirts, and finally a cote. Slowly she drew on the black leather boots Mavis had given her. She and Mavis had been delighted earlier to discover that the boots fit perfectly. The men’s clothing felt strange to Isabelle. She picked up her mantle, put it around her shoulders and fastened it. Then reaching down, she picked up the bundle of additional clothing she was taking. Agneatha was still snoring loudly. Belle smiled softly, and opening the door to her chamber, slipped out into the corridor, where Bert stood dozing outside her door, as she knew he would be, leaning upon his pike, his blond head nodding. She tiptoed past him.

Down in the stableyard Lind waited with their horses. His eyes widened at the sight of his
brother
, Lang. Isabelle put a finger to her lips and silently mounted Gris, taking Couper on her gauntlet. Wordlessly, Lind mounted his own animal, and together they walked the horses to the castle gate. The guard nodded and let them pass.

“I told him we were traveling with the archbishop,” Lind said when they were out of earshot. “I thought it better he didn’t look too closely at you, my lady, but I must say you make a fine lad.”

“I do not intend to speak a great deal,” Isabelle told him. “It is difficult to keep my voice lowered and deep. I don’t want to give us away before we’ve obtained our objective.”

“Aye,” Lind agreed, but frankly, he wasn’t too certain this was going to work. Still, he was her servant, for all the lady Isabelle was a woman. It wasn’t his place to question her decisions.

They reached the archbishop’s courtyard, where his great train was assembled and just about ready to go. Isabelle pointed out the steward, Odo, to her companion, and Lind approached him, bowed, spoke a moment, and then returned to tell his mistress that they were to travel at the end of the train with several others who had attached themselves to the archbishop’s party for safety’s sake. They reached the coast late that day, embarking the next morning for Normandy.

Isabelle had never been in a boat on the sea, and she was frankly a little frightened. She, Lind, and their horses were loaded onto an open deck, and there they remained until they reached their destination two days later. They were fortunate, she learned from listening to the talk around her, to encounter no storms. In a sheltered corner of the deck, with Couper in the crook of her arm, Isabelle huddled with Lind, who was no less in awe of their situation than his mistress. Neither of them could eat anything but a little bit of bread, and they swallowed but a sip of wine now and then to keep from being thirsty. Watching the coast of England disappear had been the most terrifying thing Belle had ever known. Seeing the coast of Normandy coming nearer and nearer was the greatest relief. They left Archbishop Anselm’s train, still pretending to be going to Duke Robert’s court at Rouen. Instead they traveled in the direction of Brittany, for Manneville was located close to the border of that country.