Read Online The Conqueror by Georgette Heyer - Free Book Online Page B

childhood I had a friend in Edward the Saxon, he who is now King of England, but he could do no more than pray for me. Yet he loves me as I think few have. His brother Alfred dealt more in actions than in prayer, but he was a fool, and met his death at the hands of Earl Godwine. For the rest – I could name you more easily my foes. They are as numerous as the trees of this forest.’ He drew his mantle more closely about him. ‘Saw you one Ranulf de Briscassart at Bayeux, the Viscount of Bessin? He is a lean man and sour, and his eyes shift under mine. He stands for Guy. There is the Lord of Thorigny, him they call Hamon-aux-Dents. A bandog, that one, who would do me a mischief if he could. These are powerful seigneurs, but there is a greater who I think stands with them.’ He paused. ‘So be it. If he lives he will one day serve me. He is that Néel de Saint-Sauveur, Viscount of Côtentin, who came not to Valognes. If he came it would have been as my true vassal. He came not. We shall meet in battle.’ He glanced up at the stars. ‘Press on: we must cross the Vire before dawn.’
    When they reached the border at last the horses were sweating and blown. Fortune favoured them with an ebbing tide, but the dawn was stealing upon them as they breasted the current. The water washed the riders’ knees, and Raoul’s teeth chattered with the cold. The horses scrambled up the bank on the further side, and stood with trembling legs, and heaving flanks. William was watching the grey light creep above the horizon. ‘We must leave Bayeux to the south of us,’ he said. ‘I dare not enter that town. On! there is no tarrying here.’
    At St Clement they rested their horses for a while outside the little church. William, a religious man, went in to kneel a few minutes before the altar, with his strong hands clasped, and his gaze sternly devout. They mounted again almost at once, and now Raoul had difficulty in keeping up with the Duke, who forced the pace on ruthlessly. The last stars had disappeared as they skirted sleeping Bayeux, and the dawn-mist shrouded the town from their sight.
    The sun was striking through the mist when they came to Rie, with its castle standing by the road. William would have passed it by, but the bridge was down, and a man was seen to stand on it, scenting the morning air. He had watched the labouring horses come along the road from afar, curious to know what men these were who rode foaming destriers so early in the day. As they drew abreast at a stumbling trot he recognized the bare-headed figure on the black horse, and gasped, and ran out to stop the Duke. ‘Seigneur! Seigneur! hold!’ he shouted, and stood in the riders’ path with his arms flung out.
    The Duke reined in. The Sieur of Rie caught Malet’s bridle, and cried: ‘What evil befalls, lord? How is it you travel thus, alone and in disorder?’
    The Duke looked directly at him. ‘Hubert, dare I trust you?’ he said.
    ‘Yea, as God lives you may trust me, beau sire. Speak boldly! I am your man.’
    ‘Why then,’ William answered, ‘I am fleeing for my life. Do you seek to stay me?’
    ‘For as long as shall suffice you to break your fast, lord, and mount a fresh horse,’ Hubert said promptly. ‘Enter and fear nothing! If your enemies come up with you I will hold my castle in their teeth.’
    They rode over the bridge into the bailey of the castle, and slid down from the saddles. Old Hubert de Rie was shouting lustily for his servants; he swept the two weary men into the hall of his castle, and in a little while the place teemed with hurrying bondmen, some bringing raiment for the Duke, some kneeling to bind the straps over the hose round his legs, one presenting a basin of water for him to lave his face, another holding a napkin, a third standing by to offer a horn filled to the brim with wine of France. While they dressed him William spoke over their heads to Hubert, briefly recounting what had befallen at Valognes. In the middle