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Authors: Roberta Gellis
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he was so startled that he echoed “Not bad news?” in amazement. “If I am right and the northern keeps are all taken or yielded, he has lost almost a third of his kingdom to the Scots. How can that be good?”
“Not good, perhaps,” Sir Walter replied, “but an opportunity to convince the northern barons of his intention and his power both to support them against David and to control them. Nor is he wrong in so thinking. He has in hand the treasure amassed by the late king, and an army of Flemish mercenaries to pay with that treasure. Combined with the men I can raise from Yorkshire and Durham, we will easily overmatch King David’s forces, especially if he has left men in the royal castles in Northumbria. But come, we will be late to dinner. And while we go, you had better tell me why you needed to flee Wark without your arms and baggage and how you came by Summerville’s horse—his prize destrier, if I am not mistaken.”
“The answer to the second question is tied into that for the first,” Hugh began, and explained what had happened from the time he arrived in Wark until he stopped at Brough keep.
While he talked, they went down the stair and out into the town. Hugh had been too exhausted to see anything except his goal when he had arrived, but now he looked about curiously. Because he had so often thought over the events that led to his escape from Wark, Hugh was able to describe them without much need for thought, leaving most of his attention free. To his surprise, he found they were heading downhill to the castle, which, in violation of usual practice, was built on the lowest land, near the river. Then Hugh realized that the town had not grown up around the castle; in this case the keep had been built to control the town. Oxford must have been one of those walled burghs that were what the English thought of as defended places before the coming of the first William.
The town looked prosperous, too. Hugh and Sir Walter had come out of the house onto a busy street. Most of the people were hurrying in the direction opposite to theirs, toward the lively market not far up the road from Sir Walter’s house. Hugh cast a longing glance toward the noisy confusion of beasts and men and women.
Banners flapped invitingly before open storefronts; peddlers threaded their way through the crowd crying aloud of hot pies, roasted chestnuts, and other tasty tidbits; merchants held their wares aloft to draw notice to them, bellowing praises of their beauty and fine craftsmanship; buyers poked inquiring fingers through the feathers of squawking chickens and the fleece of placid sheep and examined hogs, cows, and asses. Trade was brisk if judged by the people’s voices, shrill with the excitement of chaffering.
If only, Hugh thought resentfully, he had had the sense to say he was still sleepy, he could have bought himself some hot pies to eat in the market and spent a delightful day. Now, instead of enjoying himself, he would have to mind·his manners and his tongue every minute.
They had come by then through the town and past the hundred or so yards of wasteland on the far side of the moat. Hugh noticed fleetingly certain regular lines breaking the even ground cover of dry grass and dead weeds, which showed that houses had been pulled down to clear the area and remove anything that might shelter attacking troops. Most passersby in the street were now well behind at the market or had turned off onto side lanes, but Hugh and Sir Walter were not alone. Well-dressed men, singly and in pairs and small groups, were converging with them toward the bridge that spanned the moat. Hugh and Sir Walter crossed in silence, although Sir Walter nodded to some men and raised his hand to others as their long legs carried them past smaller mortals who walked more slowly.
Sir Walter’s brow was furrowed in thought, and he rasped his beard up and down ferociously, occasionally giving it a good tug. Hugh watched him in sidelong glances,
“Not good, perhaps,” Sir Walter replied, “but an opportunity to convince the northern barons of his intention and his power both to support them against David and to control them. Nor is he wrong in so thinking. He has in hand the treasure amassed by the late king, and an army of Flemish mercenaries to pay with that treasure. Combined with the men I can raise from Yorkshire and Durham, we will easily overmatch King David’s forces, especially if he has left men in the royal castles in Northumbria. But come, we will be late to dinner. And while we go, you had better tell me why you needed to flee Wark without your arms and baggage and how you came by Summerville’s horse—his prize destrier, if I am not mistaken.”
“The answer to the second question is tied into that for the first,” Hugh began, and explained what had happened from the time he arrived in Wark until he stopped at Brough keep.
While he talked, they went down the stair and out into the town. Hugh had been too exhausted to see anything except his goal when he had arrived, but now he looked about curiously. Because he had so often thought over the events that led to his escape from Wark, Hugh was able to describe them without much need for thought, leaving most of his attention free. To his surprise, he found they were heading downhill to the castle, which, in violation of usual practice, was built on the lowest land, near the river. Then Hugh realized that the town had not grown up around the castle; in this case the keep had been built to control the town. Oxford must have been one of those walled burghs that were what the English thought of as defended places before the coming of the first William.
The town looked prosperous, too. Hugh and Sir Walter had come out of the house onto a busy street. Most of the people were hurrying in the direction opposite to theirs, toward the lively market not far up the road from Sir Walter’s house. Hugh cast a longing glance toward the noisy confusion of beasts and men and women.
Banners flapped invitingly before open storefronts; peddlers threaded their way through the crowd crying aloud of hot pies, roasted chestnuts, and other tasty tidbits; merchants held their wares aloft to draw notice to them, bellowing praises of their beauty and fine craftsmanship; buyers poked inquiring fingers through the feathers of squawking chickens and the fleece of placid sheep and examined hogs, cows, and asses. Trade was brisk if judged by the people’s voices, shrill with the excitement of chaffering.
If only, Hugh thought resentfully, he had had the sense to say he was still sleepy, he could have bought himself some hot pies to eat in the market and spent a delightful day. Now, instead of enjoying himself, he would have to mind·his manners and his tongue every minute.
They had come by then through the town and past the hundred or so yards of wasteland on the far side of the moat. Hugh noticed fleetingly certain regular lines breaking the even ground cover of dry grass and dead weeds, which showed that houses had been pulled down to clear the area and remove anything that might shelter attacking troops. Most passersby in the street were now well behind at the market or had turned off onto side lanes, but Hugh and Sir Walter were not alone. Well-dressed men, singly and in pairs and small groups, were converging with them toward the bridge that spanned the moat. Hugh and Sir Walter crossed in silence, although Sir Walter nodded to some men and raised his hand to others as their long legs carried them past smaller mortals who walked more slowly.
Sir Walter’s brow was furrowed in thought, and he rasped his beard up and down ferociously, occasionally giving it a good tug. Hugh watched him in sidelong glances,
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