The Traitor's Daughter (2 page)

Today, for the first time in many months, it seemed to
him that it might be better not to fight and die, but to fight and live. Today
he had a purpose beyond killing his enemy. He had promised Lady Alais that he
would find her mother and she would not know that he had done so unless he
survived to ride back to Hill to give her the news. It must be him who brought
her the news. Without him, she would know, eventually, what had happened to
Lady Eleanor, but it would take many days before the news reached her. It was impossible
that an elderly woman who had been left behind with no one to protect her could
survive that long in the destruction that he now saw around him. Although he
assumed she was already dead, he desperately wanted to find her alive and take her
back to Lady Alais. He wanted her to be grateful to him. And he wanted to see
her smile again. He of all people knew that she had precious little to smile
about, but she would smile at him if he saved her mother and perhaps he would
find redemption in her smile. If Lady Eleanor were already dead, then he would
be there to comfort Lady Alais when he gave her the news and she would still be
grateful to him for trying to save her mother. She would not know and would
never know the responsibility he bore for her death. Lady Alais would cry and
he would comfort her until he could coax a smile from her. He thought she might
be beautiful when she smiled. It had been hard to tell through the dirt and
grime encrusted on her face. She had looked more like a cottar’s woman than a
noble’s daughter when she had accosted them, but what spirit she had. She had
faced down two mounted and armed men. She had been afraid, terrified, even, but
she had not panicked in the face of certain death and that had saved her life.
If she had turned and run, she would have run straight into the arms of the
Frenchmen pursuing her and they would have killed her before Hugh could have
reached her.

Hugh shivered at the thought; he did not like the idea
of harm coming to Lady Alais. He was ashamed now that he had scared her by
moving against the Frenchmen without warning her or Edmund. In the heat of the
moment, action had seemed preferable to speech, but he felt sure that she had
understood quickly what was happening. Hugh did not have much time for the
company of women. He thought them weak, silly and selfish, with very few
exceptions. They were more in need of his protection than anything else. His
own wife had only confirmed these beliefs, but Lady Alais, who had definitely
needed his protection, had struck him as neither silly, nor weak and definitely
not selfish. She had tested him every step of the way before she had allowed
Edmund to take her to safety. He wondered what she would have done if she had decided
that his intentions were criminal or dishonourable. Undoubtedly it would have
involved some pain for him or Edmund; she was not the kind of woman to give in
without a fight. It showed her remarkable good sense that she had saved herself
when she could not save her mother and her first request had not been for
herself, but for Lady Eleanor. She also interested him in a way his wife never
had. He had not wanted to give her up to Edmund, but had wanted to be the one take
her to safety. For one blinding moment, he had imagined taking her to Hill,
going with her into his bedchamber and locking the door behind them, but that
was something he could not think about. It was a complication he could not
allow. Better, by far, to think of her as a damsel in distress and him as the
knight who had rescued her on his way to greater and more glorious deeds. He
had never thought of himself as the hero of a tale before and he found the
thought did not sit easily with him. He shook his head; he had been too
affected by fireside tales. His own sworn duty was to escort Lady Alais to
Liss. She could hardly distract him from his task when she was his task. He
needed to find some form of protection against her, because he could not admit,
even to himself, that he was attracted to his father’s wife.

Edmund’s body behind Alais was totally unyielding. He sat
stiffly as far away from her as he could, with his right arm draped loosely
around her waist, holding her just tightly enough to keep her steady, but not
too tightly to be considered familiar. Alais in turn sat as far away from him
as was comfortable and safe. She could hardly blame him for his antagonism; he
had also recognised her name, he must know who she was and what her story was and,
like everyone else, he could have no regard for a traitor’s daughter. He must
hold his lord – Sir William, Hugh’s father – in high esteem and could not bear
being this close to her. Alais shuddered slightly, knowing that this would
never end; whatever else she might be she would always be the daughter of a
traitor.

It was not long before Edmund’s horse was moving among
people fleeing on foot. Most of them were too scared to notice the horse, but
those who did moved out of the way as quickly as possible. Some of the crowd,
seeing that he was mounted and armed, shouted at him to go back and fight the
French, but Edmund did not respond, although he tightened his grip on Alais,
until she had to ask him to loosen it before she could no longer breathe. She
could feel his anger at being called a coward and almost offered to take her
chances in the crowd so that he could go back and fight. Edmund slowed the
horse in his efforts to avoid trampling people. Their fear affected the horse
and Edmund struggled to control him. Alais realised that it was difficult for
him to manage with her perched in front of him. Although the horse was big, he
was not a warhorse, like the steed of Sir Hugh. Sir Hugh’s horse would have
been trained to walk through frightened and screaming people in a battle as if
he were walking through a quiet country lane on a spring morning. Edmund’s
horse, however, became more nervous and kept trying to dance away from the
noisiest people in the crowds. Alais knew that Edmund would never set her down
among the crowd, it could be very dangerous, even though he was armed, but
there was still the danger that the horse would throw them. Impetuously, she
leaned forward and began to smooth the horse’s neck and speak to him. Edmund
tightened his grip on her still further, but she placed her hand over his and
pulled it back slightly, so that she could lean forward even more. “My lady,”
he began, but stopped as he noticed the horse start to calm down. She placed
one hand on the saddle and he let go of her entirely so that she could stretch
out along the horse’s neck and they walked on at a sedate pace.

Alais did not dare look back in case she saw more
Frenchmen. In these narrow streets there would not be room for anyone to run
and they would be massacred. Even Edmund would be at risk with so little room
for manoeuvre. It took them a while to make their way through the streets towards
the narrow Bar Gate to the north of the town. Alais gradually began to
recognise familiar streets and houses. Once through the gate, the crowds
thinned as people ran in different directions, seeking safety and help and, as
they reached the fields beyond the town, Edmund was able to push the horse
faster and they began to leave the fleeing people behind.

Edmund was silent throughout the rest of the journey and
Alais had no wish to start a conversation. Once they had left the town behind,
there was no more need for her to calm the horse and she returned to her
position in front of Edmund. He returned his hand to her waist and she found
herself distracted by a thought about the tall knight. She found herself wishing
that she was riding with the knight and not with the servant. It was true that
Sir Hugh’s warhorse would have provided a more comfortable ride, but she
imagined that he would have held her close and that his body would be more
accommodating than Edmund’s. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she
realised how uncomfortable she was and shifted. Edmund grunted and gave her
more room. She also knew that if she had been riding with Sir Hugh they would
have talked all the way. There would have been no need for her to leave his
arms to talk to his horse and he would have held her safely all the while. It
was not that she did not feel safe with Edmund, just that she felt that he did
not approve of her, or had taken an instant dislike to her, not, of course,
that she cared what a servant thought about her, but it did seem important that
Sir Hugh’s servant should hold her in some regard.

Alais glanced back at the burning town and wondered if
Sir Hugh was safe. Had he found her mother yet? Then she remembered Peter, the
servant who had stayed with them when their escort had returned to Leigh. She
could not bear to think of either of them hacked down by a vicious French sword,
but now no other thought seemed able to lodge in her head. She tried to
distract herself again by thinking about Sir Hugh, but she could only worry
about whether or not he had been killed before he could find Lady Eleanor. When
it was not occupied with those thoughts, her mind kept going back to the last
time she had seen her mother. A sudden disturbance at the back of the church
had made her turn around and look, when she should have been paying attention
to what the priest was doing at the altar. She had been horrified to see armed
men pour into the church and start cutting at the people standing at the back
of the church. They had fallen, stained by their own blood. It had been so
quick that they had died without crying out. Alais almost doubted what she was
seeing, but the amount of blood could not be denied. Other worshippers became
aware of what was happening and began to scream and cry. She watched as the men
set fire to the church. As it started to burn, she suddenly understood that she
should be afraid and she was.

Her mother had turned to look at the same time. They had
been standing near the front of the church and, shielding her daughter with her
own body, Lady Eleanor pushed Alais behind the rood screen, out of sight of the
invaders. And Alais had followed the servers out through the priest’s door,
picked up her skirts and run away as quickly as possible. Her mother’s last
words to her had been, “Run and do not look back!” Even whispered, they had
carried all the force of her love for her daughter. As always, Alais had obeyed
her mother, although the temptation to stay and try to protect her had been
almost overwhelming.

It was only when she got out into the street and heard
the screams and the shouts and loud French voices shouting out orders that she
realised that it was the invasion they had feared. Since King Edward had
declared war on France the year before, they had thought that the French must
surely invade by the south coast, even if the king himself had not given it much
thought. Leigh was only six miles inland and they had spent the last few months
making the manor more secure. Even before the war, her uncle Giles had always
made sure the servants knew something about swordplay, although they had
precious few swords if it should come to a fight. All her brothers had died, so
there was no one else to defend the manor and the village. Uncle Giles was too
old to be much help, but he was a good strategist and had worked out a number
of ways that they could defend the manor if it came to a fight. He had always
wanted her father to build a moat round the manor house and now he had had his
way. She had been upset that the old soldier had not been able to travel with
them and had been left behind at Leigh, but now she was glad. When the French
reached Leigh, they would find more there than they expected.

Peter, the servant who had brought them to Southampton,
had worn his sword at all times and not just because of the French. These were
dangerous times. Outlaws and landless men roamed the woods and forests. They
had not expected to meet any on such a short journey, but they had thought it
best to be prepared. She had wondered briefly what had happened to Peter, but
realising that he was at the back of the church with the other servants, she
knew that he would not have stood a chance when the French rushed in. Of
course, he had not even brought his sword to church. No one could have imagined
that even the profane French would have dared to enter churches and start
killing those at mass.

She had very quickly lost sight of the boys she was following
and was on her own in streets that she did not recognise. She had had no idea
which was the best way to run. For all she knew she could be running straight
into the French. She had had no time to think, only to act. That brought her up
short – she would not act out of fear. Uncle Giles had told her often enough
that fear led to bad decisions. She had looked into the sky and, finding the
sun, turned herself so that it was to her right. It was mid-morning so north,
where the main gate in and out of the town was situated, was now in front of
her. The wharves, and the French, were behind her. Now she ran.

She had not run very far before she had run into Sir
Hugh and Edmund and she knew, that but for their help, she would now be lying
dead or worse. She shivered and Edmund wrapped his cloak around her as well.
“Thank you,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. They continued in
silence.

The village was very close and Alais very soon found
herself set down outside a small moated manor house, surrounded by sturdy stone
walls. Edmund gave his horse to a young boy who had been watching down the
road. “What’s happening down there?” the boy asked, pointing back along the
road, along which people were starting to appear as they ran from the town.

Edmund and Alais turned back. The flames were clearly
visible even from this slight vantage point. “The French are invading,” Edmund
said, brusquely. The boy crossed himself, turned quickly and walked off with
the horse.

Edmund led her into the manor house. A short, thin man
in his late thirties came to meet them. “This is Matthew,” Edmund introduced
the steward. “Matt, this is Lady Alais de Montjoye.”

The steward’s eyes opened wide and he hid his confusion
by bowing low.

“I thought you were going straight to Liss when you
found her and where’s Hugh and Lady Eleanor?”  He frowned up at the younger
man, then glanced again at Alais, as if she might have the answers.

“The French are invading,” Edmund said again, although
he still seemed to be having trouble believing it. “Hugh stayed in town to
fight them. He bade me bring Lady Alais to safety.”

This time Matthew did not bother to hide his concern.
“The French?” he said, “Marion.”

“I’m sure Hugh will look out for her,” said Edmund,
placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “She’s his daughter,” he explained
to Alais.

“Is your daughter in the town?” asked Alais.

“Yes. She married the son of a wine merchant.”

Alais realised that there was not much hope for
Matthew’s daughter. The wine merchants lived near the quayside and their church
and homes would have been amongst the first things attacked by the French.
Matthew seemed to gather himself together and remember his duties. “Come in, my
lady.” He led her into the hall and preceded her to the dais, where he
indicated that she should sit in the lord’s chair. She sank into the softly
cushioned chair with a sigh. Then she watched as the well-trained household
sprang into action. A young boy appeared from what she knew must be the
kitchens. He carried a bowl of water and had a linen cloth over his shoulder.
She washed the dirt of her flight from her hands and dried them on the cloth.
Then the bowl was offered to Edmund. As soon as her hands were dry another boy
appeared carrying two mugs. He bowed solemnly and presented one to Alais and
one to Edmund. They each took their small beer and drank deeply. Alais handed
her empty mug back to the boy and he looked at the steward as if confused.
Alais realised that he had not expected her to drain it in one swallow, but her
exertions and her fear had made her thirsty. The steward nodded and the boy
hurried away, returning almost immediately with another mug, which he gave to
Alais. She thanked him, took a sip and placed it on the boards of the table, to
show that she would not be quite so intemperate this time. She realised that it
had tasted good and it would be a shame not to take her time over the second
mug. Matthew shooed the boy away and Alais was left alone with the two men.
Edmund had also drained his mug. The two men looked at one another uneasily.
Alais knew that the steward at least would have duties to attend to, but he
would see it as inhospitable to desert her in his lord’s absence.

“I know that you must have much to do,” she said to
Matthew, “Please do not worry about me. I can remain here until Sir Hugh
returns, unless there is some task that I can do for you.”

“No, thank you, Lady Alais. I am afraid that the best we
can do is to leave you alone.”

Alais smiled up at them both. “Then that is most
acceptable.”

Both men left. She guessed Edmund had returned to the
courtyard of the manor house to look out over the town and Matthew to worry
about his daughter while he readied the house for the return of his lord’s
son. 

Relishing her comparative security, she turned her
attentions to the hall of the manor house. It was a neat room with fresh rushes
on the floor. A small fire burned in the hearth to ward off the damp of autumn.
Despite the fire, everything was clean, not blackened by the soot. Although it
was a wooden house, she did not think it was very old. The benches were lined
up neatly with the trestle tables and the tables themselves looked as if they
were scrubbed every day. There was a small tapestry behind the lord’s chair.
Alais began to wonder at her husband’s wealth if he could afford to have such a
thing in the hall of his most minor estate. It was beautiful and finely
wrought. She smoothed her fingers gently over the surface and felt the changes
in the fabric where the colours changed. It depicted a hunting scene and she wondered
whether Sir William considered this house as nothing more than a hunting lodge.
Certainly it was well-situated to accompany the king on hunting trips in his
New Forest.