The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (3 page)

 
Alicia had begged Simon to
allow her to make some padding for underneath his hauberk, something most
sensible other knights had adopted in order to add protection to their regular
armour. Simon had not allowed her to do this. To him, it smacked of cowardice,
of an expectation that he might not win. To Simon, failing to win was not an
option. Simon always won—in competition and in battle—and he smiled
to himself as he remembered the argument that had ensued. His will had
prevailed, however, and she had conceded victory to his stubbornness. True, he
did not win many battles with
her
; he
could never resist her pleadings on most things. He loved her more than anyone
or anything on earth. He had never understood why men felt it necessary to take
a mistress or use a whore.

Simon had arisen early and walked around the field crowded with the
usual donkeys, bullocks, sheep, goats, pens of chickens and geese and all
manner of humankind. What people saw as he moved about was a tall, very dark
and handsome man who bore himself proudly. The very set of his shoulders
indicated that he was not a person to be trifled with, and those who had done
so had found it cost them dearly. He nodded to some of his acquaintances, many
of whom would be taking part in the lists later that day. In the crowd were
jugglers, musicians, sellers of ribbons and lace, and silk merchants hawking
the beautiful silks the Crusaders had recently brought back from the east. The
bearbaiting had not yet begun, but Simon knew that a great deal of money would
change hands later on in the day as people laid bets on whether the dogs would
win against the bear or the bear would survive to fight another day. In any
event all the animals taking part would end the day with a vicious mauling!

Pushing through the crowds that were growing larger by the minute, Simon
eventually reached the part of the field near the lists that was reserved for
knights of his rank and their armour, horses, grooms and the like. He cast a
trained eye over the horseflesh, noting the prime condition. A knight would
sooner starve or beat his children than see his horses mistreated—not
that the knights themselves did the work! If not a poor mount was present
amongst this gathering, it was on account of the expertise of the grooms and
the pride of the squires, who lived only to see their lords shine in events
such as these.

 
He smiled, remembering the
days not so many years ago when he had been in the same position as these young
men. More than once he had remarked that he was certain some squires preferred
to look after the war horses more than they did their lords. He had once stated
this within earshot of young Amaury, who had looked scandalized.

“I’d never do that, Papa,” he’d said with such conviction that both his
parents had looked at him in surprise.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Simon had replied indulgently. “But you should
remember that it’s not necessarily a bad thing for a squire to take pride in
the care of our horses. Our lives can depend on how our mounts are turned out.
A good groom is as important as a good saddle and a strong arm.”

“When I’m older I shall have the best grooms and squires in the whole of
Normandy!” Amaury had boasted. “My horse will be the biggest and best in all
our domains, even in all of France. Maybe even the world!” Even at the ripe old
age of eight, clearly Amaury was beginning to understand what it would take as
the elder de Montfort son to rule their estates in northern France.

Simon felt a bump on his shoulder and turned sharply in irritation,
fearing, as most people did, the attentions of a pickpocket. His face cleared
as he saw that it was only his friend Geoffrey de Joinville, who had tapped him
on the shoulder.

“Geoffrey my friend, it’s good to see you, but why are you up and about
so early? I’d have thought you’d still be abed with that beautiful wife of
yours.” Simon grinned as he spoke. Geoffrey’s new wife was the latest beauty to
join this elite gathering of the flowers of French knighthood.

Geoffrey looked glum. “I’ve drawn one of the short straws so I am to
ride this afternoon. I was just looking at the destriers Gauthier has brought
with him.
 
It’s him I’m to tilt
against first.”

“You’ve drawn Gauthier, have you?” Simon laughed. “A bit of family pride
involved, is there?” (Gauthier was Geoffrey’s cousin.) “Well, being older he’s
had a bit more practice than you, and there’s no doubt at all that he’s good,
but then, my friend, so are you.” Geoffrey looked gratified by the unsolicited
praise. “You will need to watch him carefully, that’s all. You know how strong
his left arm is. I recall a few falls you took from him in the tilt yard. He
used to knock you about quite a lot, didn’t he? Do you remember, he used to
laugh at you? He’s no mean swordsman if he unhorses you, but he tires easily on
account of his age. But what am I saying? You know this already! Just watch his
left arm carefully; he is as strong with that as he is with his right. I have
jousted with him before and he is beatable as long as he stays mounted. He’s
never beaten me yet!”
 
Simon pulled
his beard reflectively. “His best horse is certainly inferior to yours and will
wind quicker, so stay mounted at all costs and don’t give him a chance to fight
on the ground.”

Geoffrey looked relieved. He certainly felt more comfortable with a
lance than with the great swords he would need if he were fighting on the
ground. “Have you heard that Fulques de Neuilly is here?” he said.

Simon grunted. “What does he want?”

“Who knows?” Geoffrey looked pensive. “I heard that Thibaut invited him
here specially, but for what I don’t know.”
 
Simon looked sceptical. “I’ve heard that a large part of the
money the old reprobate collected to help pay for the last Crusade went
mysteriously astray and then he built himself a fine new palace. I ask you,
where does a preacher get the money to do that?”

“He’s well liked by His Holiness the Pope, so I suppose that’s all that
matters,” Geoffrey said. “He arrived late last night direct from Rome, and has
been closeted with Thibaut for several hours already.”

“I understand he performs miracles.” Simon couldn’t help grinning.
“Perhaps that’s how he managed to build a palace on a preacher’s stipend.”

“He does spend a great deal of his time in Rome now,” Geoffrey said
cynically. “There must be something afoot because he has been talking with
Thibaut and that Marshall of his, Villehardouin, since prime this morning.”

“I’d say it’s a good thing Thibaut is not to joust today. He’d be a
first class target for one of us!”

“He would not like being beaten here on his own ground, that’s a
certainty,” Geoffrey said. “Still, I suppose we’ll know soon enough why the old
goat is here. They say he comes directly from Rome, but surely he doesn’t
intend to beg for more money after the last fiasco.”

“Well, he’s surely won’t want to miss preaching to this crowd. There
must be close to a thousand people here now, so heaven knows what it will be
like this afternoon!” Simon surveyed the crowd. “You haven’t seen Walter about,
have you?”

Walter was Simon’s most trusted squire and Amaury’s greatest hero (after
his father, of course)—a young man who ached to win his spurs on the
field of battle. Related to the de Montmorency family, he was a distant cousin
of Alicia’s. He had come as a young page to Simon’s estates and, in turn, had
become the most useful of the several young noblemen who had arrived there to
undergo training. Simon reckoned he would make an excellent knight when the
time came.

“I’ve asked him to organize Amaury’s first hauberk with the armourers.
He chose the German to make it. From what I’ve heard of the man’s reputation, I
think Walter’s choice was sound. We will present it to the boy tonight at dinner,
but I want to be sure everything is in place so there will be no disappointment
for him.”

“How old is Amaury? Surely not old enough for a hauberk!” Geoffrey
looked surprised. How quickly the years pass by!

“Oh, he’s old enough, and I think he already has the makings of a good
soldier. Didn’t I tell you we have decided he’s to go away? We think he’ll be
delighted with the hauberk. It will soften the blow of his leaving, at least as
far as he is concerned. I’m not so sure about Alicia’s reaction, though, when
the time comes. She has agreed that he must go somewhere, and we have made up
our minds that he will go to my uncle of Leicester within the next fortnight.
She knows my aunt, the Countess of Leicester, so he won’t be going to complete
strangers, which is a blessing. I had to do a great deal of persuading, I can
tell you! She finally agreed when I pointed out that that her own brothers had
come to my father’s court and we hadn’t treated them badly.”

“It’s always hard when the firstborn leaves,” Geoffrey agreed. “My
mother cried for days after I left, and what did I care? I was too taken up
with all the new sights and sounds I was encountering along the way. I didn’t
miss my mother at all, nor anyone else for that matter!”

“Better tell that to Alicia,” Simon said. “She might find some comfort
in it. I can’t deny that I will miss him, too, but there is no one I would
rather send him to than my uncle of Leicester. His methods of training are
known to be the best in England, and also the fairest. Alicia would tear my
head off if anything happened to the boy. I am well aware that some abuse goes
on, if not amongst the pages and squires, then sometimes amongst the knights
and the young pages. De Noyesville’s son was quite ruined after his encounter
with one of de Mauvoisin’s knights. The child was never right again.”

“I heard that story but I confess I didn’t give it much credence. You
know what hotbeds of gossip castles can be.”

“This wasn’t merely gossip, my friend; this was proven, and Jacques de
Verneil was nearly degraded as a result.” Simon looked fierce as he spoke. “He
was lucky to have had powerful friends to intercede for him. I would have felt
no compunction about stripping him of his knighthood had it been my child he
had interfered with!”
 
Simon loved
his children with a fierceness that was quite unprecedented amongst his noble
friends, who marvelled at his ferocity on the battlefield and his tolerance at
home.

“Well,” said Geoffrey. “I suppose I had better go and make myself ready
and see if that lazy scoundrel of a groom has followed my orders. I must say
I’m not looking forward to meeting Gauthier this afternoon. He was always
bigger and stronger than I, even when we were playing at jousting.” He turned
to leave.

“Good luck,” said Simon, giving him a friendly smack on the back. “But
not better than mine, I hope. I want to win this tournament. Perhaps we’ll meet
in the finals tomorrow!”

Giving him a cheery wave he went to look for his squire. He hadn’t gone
more than a few paces in his search for him when his attention was caught by a
familiar sound. He could clearly hear it over the din from the lists.

“Papa! Papa!” Who could mistake that voice? It fairly squeaked with
excitement. A small boy emerged from the crowd, followed closely—too
closely for his brother’s liking—by Guy and his harassed nurse.

“Oh, Milord, I’m ever so sorry!” The nurse’s face was red from exertion
as she tried to take hold of the wriggling Guy, who was doing his best to evade
her clutches. “I know he shouldn’t be here and I daren’t think what the lady
Alicia will say, but he is so stubborn. He
will
go everywhere that Master Amaury goes.”

“Whoa there!” Simon caught Guy up in his arms. “Be at peace, young man,
and give Nurse a rest.”

Guy flung his arms around his father’s shoulders. If Guy looked upon
Amaury as his hero, he looked upon his father with near Godlike adoration. It
was seldom that he had the opportunity to be this close to his papa, and he was
relishing every second of it.

“When are you going to joust, Papa?” Amaury asked, attempting to
distract his father’s interest from his young brother. Guy was getting
altogether too much attention.

“Not until tomorrow, but Geoffrey de Joinville will be in the lists this
afternoon. If you are very well-behaved you may accompany maman and me when we
go to watch him. He will be against Gauthier of Brienne, so it should be a good
match. You will certainly see some good jousting. If you pay attention, you may
even pick up some pointers.”

 
          
“Me,
too! Me, too!” Guy pleaded while pounding on Simon’s chest.

“Not so fast, young man. You have a choice. You may rest this afternoon
and attend this evening’s festivities or you may stay up this afternoon and go
to bed early this evening. Choose wisely because once you have made your
choice, you will honour it!”

Guy pouted and there was a quiver to his lips, but even at his tender
age he knew his papa’s decision was final. “I choose to rest this afternoon and
attend the festivities tonight,” he declared finally.

His face brightened when it occurred to him that the evening would offer
many opportunities to get into mischief with some of the younger pages whilst
adult eyes were distracted by all the food and wine. No nurse would be
constantly dogging his heels, and there would very likely be troubadours from
Occitania who had accompanied some of the lords from that southern part of
France. He loved their singing, even though he was not able to understand
exactly what they were singing about—they sang in a foreign language
called Oc.