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Authors: Roberta Gellis
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come away without anything. The glance showed a nearly bare chamber of fair size with a steeply sloping roof and a stone fireplace and chimney not far from his pallet at the rear of the room. Closest to the hearth was a cot, farther away another, and by the side wall, a clothes chest. Hugh turned around, absently pulling at his chausses with one hand and gathering his tunic together with the other. At the other end of the room, taking up most of the front gable, was a large window with its shutters folded back and scraped hides keeping out some of the cold.
Clearly they were not in Oxford keep but in the solar of a house in the town. Hugh frowned, wondering if that meant that King Stephen did not value his master highly enough to lodge him, or, more pleasantly, whether Stephen had taken Sir Walter’s measure and felt he did not need to watch him constantly.
His thought was interrupted by Sir Walter saying, “You need not stand there picking at your stockings and holding your tunic together like a modest maiden. I will lend you my clothes, those on the chest there. You would split John’s at the shoulders, and his chausses would probably only reach midthigh on you. But you had better take one of John’s belts. Mine will go around you twice.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Hugh mumbled in a muffled voice as he pulled off his stinking, sweat-soaked garments and donned one of his master’s fine linen shirts. He did not protest, for he and his master stood a head taller than most men and were broader in proportion. It was fortunate that Hugh was redheaded and fair as well as so distinctive in feature, rather than black of eye, hair, and beard as Sir Walter was, or worse would have been said than that he was the lord’s favorite. A pair of woolen stockings with attached feet and underpants was drawn on under the shirt and, over all, one of Sir Walter’s plainest tunics. But Hugh did not go to John’s baggage for a belt.
“I will just unhook the sword from my belt,” Hugh said. “You are not wearing yours in the presence of the king, I see, and my sword will be safe with yours.”
Sir Walter looked at him and raised his brows, but he did not, as Hugh had feared, insist that Hugh make use of John’s belt or ask why Hugh preferred the nuisance of removing his sword from his own belt. Instead he said, “I gather from the fact that you came away from Wark without shield or helmet or saddlebags, not to mention on a horse I have never seen, that you left without my castellan’s blessing.”
“Yes, my lord,” Hugh said. Then he grinned. “The horse and accoutrements were Sir William de Summerville’s. I told you, did I not, that he led the Scottish force. Forgive me, but I do not remember very well what I said yesterday.”
“You came in bawling halfway across the chamber that Wark had fallen to the Scots without a battle,” Sir Walter said dryly, “but you did tell us about Summerville and that you thought all north England was in David’s hands after the king began to ask questions.”
Hugh looked up from tying long cloth strips around his legs to keep his borrowed chausses from sagging. He had lost his grin and paled. “If I have spoken amiss and brought trouble to you, my lord, I beg your pardon. Perhaps—”
“No, no.” Sir Walter shook his head. “In this case you could not have done better than you did, and now that you know the king by sight, I am sure you will speak with more caution in his presence.”
“I hope not to need to speak at all in his presence!” Hugh exclaimed. “Who am I to speak to kings?”
Sir Walter laughed at Hugh’s vehemence, but shook his head. “I am afraid your company has been requested. You have taken King Stephen’s fancy. He was much impressed by the devotion that drove you beyond exhaustion to bring me the news. And since he no longer regards it as bad news…”
Hugh had been about to protest the notion that his ride south had been anything extraordinary, but
Clearly they were not in Oxford keep but in the solar of a house in the town. Hugh frowned, wondering if that meant that King Stephen did not value his master highly enough to lodge him, or, more pleasantly, whether Stephen had taken Sir Walter’s measure and felt he did not need to watch him constantly.
His thought was interrupted by Sir Walter saying, “You need not stand there picking at your stockings and holding your tunic together like a modest maiden. I will lend you my clothes, those on the chest there. You would split John’s at the shoulders, and his chausses would probably only reach midthigh on you. But you had better take one of John’s belts. Mine will go around you twice.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Hugh mumbled in a muffled voice as he pulled off his stinking, sweat-soaked garments and donned one of his master’s fine linen shirts. He did not protest, for he and his master stood a head taller than most men and were broader in proportion. It was fortunate that Hugh was redheaded and fair as well as so distinctive in feature, rather than black of eye, hair, and beard as Sir Walter was, or worse would have been said than that he was the lord’s favorite. A pair of woolen stockings with attached feet and underpants was drawn on under the shirt and, over all, one of Sir Walter’s plainest tunics. But Hugh did not go to John’s baggage for a belt.
“I will just unhook the sword from my belt,” Hugh said. “You are not wearing yours in the presence of the king, I see, and my sword will be safe with yours.”
Sir Walter looked at him and raised his brows, but he did not, as Hugh had feared, insist that Hugh make use of John’s belt or ask why Hugh preferred the nuisance of removing his sword from his own belt. Instead he said, “I gather from the fact that you came away from Wark without shield or helmet or saddlebags, not to mention on a horse I have never seen, that you left without my castellan’s blessing.”
“Yes, my lord,” Hugh said. Then he grinned. “The horse and accoutrements were Sir William de Summerville’s. I told you, did I not, that he led the Scottish force. Forgive me, but I do not remember very well what I said yesterday.”
“You came in bawling halfway across the chamber that Wark had fallen to the Scots without a battle,” Sir Walter said dryly, “but you did tell us about Summerville and that you thought all north England was in David’s hands after the king began to ask questions.”
Hugh looked up from tying long cloth strips around his legs to keep his borrowed chausses from sagging. He had lost his grin and paled. “If I have spoken amiss and brought trouble to you, my lord, I beg your pardon. Perhaps—”
“No, no.” Sir Walter shook his head. “In this case you could not have done better than you did, and now that you know the king by sight, I am sure you will speak with more caution in his presence.”
“I hope not to need to speak at all in his presence!” Hugh exclaimed. “Who am I to speak to kings?”
Sir Walter laughed at Hugh’s vehemence, but shook his head. “I am afraid your company has been requested. You have taken King Stephen’s fancy. He was much impressed by the devotion that drove you beyond exhaustion to bring me the news. And since he no longer regards it as bad news…”
Hugh had been about to protest the notion that his ride south had been anything extraordinary, but
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