chamber, calling over his shoulder: ‘Sweet dreams, dear cousin.’
‘Judas!’ Raoul thought, hating him.
Guy shut the door, and paused for a moment, looking about him. Raoul saw him go to the edge of the gallery, and lean over. He made a sign to someone below, and went away to his own chamber at the opposite corner of the building.
Raoul listened to his retreating steps. Should he go to the Duke, and warn him? Warn him of what? He bit his lip, feeling himself a fool. What could he say? That he thought the wine had been drugged? That he misliked the look of Grimbauld? It was of no use to carry such vague suspicions to a young man who only gave a laugh, and seemed to look right through one. He drew his cloak closer about him, and leaned rather disconsolately against the wall. When the household slept he might be able to find Galet, and hear what he had discovered. Then, if treachery stalked abroad indeed, perhaps between them they could contrive to smuggle the Duke away.
A stir below drew him to the side of the gallery again. Humphrey de Bohun was going out, wenching, Raoul guessed. There was nothing unusual in that, for many of the Duke’s men preferred a night spent snugly in the arms of some loose bordel-woman to one on a hard pallet in the castle. Several of the knights went out with Humphrey, and the noise in the hall died down. The valet came out of the Duke’s chamber, and quenched all but a single torch at the other end of the gallery. He went clattering down the stairs, and across the hall to the kitchens.
Men had tumbled on to their pallets without troubling to remove their tunics or their chausses. Only Grimbauld and some half a dozen others still sat at a table that had been pushed up against the wall. They were talking in whispers, all but Grimbauld and one Godfrey of Bayeux, who seemed absorbed in a game of chess. A sleepy scullion came out of the kitchen to put out the candles. Grimbauld and Godfrey played on in the light of a horn-lantern.
There were still faint sounds of movement in the castle, but soon these ended, and nothing broke the stillness except the stertorous breathing of the sleepers, and once, coming from the world outside the castle, the long, far-off howl of a wolf.
There was a click of ivory as Grimbauld gathered the chessmen together. He stood up, and said something to one of the men beside him, and picking up the lantern went towards the foot of the stairs.
Raoul’s heart began to race. He drew back quickly to the Duke’s door, and sat down on the floor, holding his sword across his knees, and letting his head fall forward on his chest as though he slept. A glimmer of light shone on the bend of the stair; Grimbauld came into sight, holding up the lantern.
If he means to slay me now, Raoul thought, I can at least make a fight for it, and shout to warn the Duke. God and His saints aid me!
But Grimbauld, although he bent over him, closely scrutinizing his face, made no movement to touch him. After a moment or two he seemed satisfied that Raoul indeed slept, and went away again as stealthily as he had come.
A light sweat had broken out on Raoul’s forehead. He lifted his head, frowning into the darkness. If Grimbauld meant to slay the Duke, why had he not stepped over the apparently drugged man at the door, and gone in to do the foul deed at once? There were six men to answer to his call; he surely ran no risk. But the scullions and the men-at-arms were within hail: Raoul had forgotten them. They could not all have been drugged, and if an alarm was given some at least would run in to the Duke’s rescue.
He got to his feet suddenly. Why had Humphrey de Bohun gone out with his knights? And what connection with all this dark business had had that dust-stained stranger whom he had seen coming out of Guy’s chamber before the day of the bear-hunt? Guy must be implicated in this, and Guy would not move unless he had a strong following at his back. Some foul treachery was afoot, more
‘Judas!’ Raoul thought, hating him.
Guy shut the door, and paused for a moment, looking about him. Raoul saw him go to the edge of the gallery, and lean over. He made a sign to someone below, and went away to his own chamber at the opposite corner of the building.
Raoul listened to his retreating steps. Should he go to the Duke, and warn him? Warn him of what? He bit his lip, feeling himself a fool. What could he say? That he thought the wine had been drugged? That he misliked the look of Grimbauld? It was of no use to carry such vague suspicions to a young man who only gave a laugh, and seemed to look right through one. He drew his cloak closer about him, and leaned rather disconsolately against the wall. When the household slept he might be able to find Galet, and hear what he had discovered. Then, if treachery stalked abroad indeed, perhaps between them they could contrive to smuggle the Duke away.
A stir below drew him to the side of the gallery again. Humphrey de Bohun was going out, wenching, Raoul guessed. There was nothing unusual in that, for many of the Duke’s men preferred a night spent snugly in the arms of some loose bordel-woman to one on a hard pallet in the castle. Several of the knights went out with Humphrey, and the noise in the hall died down. The valet came out of the Duke’s chamber, and quenched all but a single torch at the other end of the gallery. He went clattering down the stairs, and across the hall to the kitchens.
Men had tumbled on to their pallets without troubling to remove their tunics or their chausses. Only Grimbauld and some half a dozen others still sat at a table that had been pushed up against the wall. They were talking in whispers, all but Grimbauld and one Godfrey of Bayeux, who seemed absorbed in a game of chess. A sleepy scullion came out of the kitchen to put out the candles. Grimbauld and Godfrey played on in the light of a horn-lantern.
There were still faint sounds of movement in the castle, but soon these ended, and nothing broke the stillness except the stertorous breathing of the sleepers, and once, coming from the world outside the castle, the long, far-off howl of a wolf.
There was a click of ivory as Grimbauld gathered the chessmen together. He stood up, and said something to one of the men beside him, and picking up the lantern went towards the foot of the stairs.
Raoul’s heart began to race. He drew back quickly to the Duke’s door, and sat down on the floor, holding his sword across his knees, and letting his head fall forward on his chest as though he slept. A glimmer of light shone on the bend of the stair; Grimbauld came into sight, holding up the lantern.
If he means to slay me now, Raoul thought, I can at least make a fight for it, and shout to warn the Duke. God and His saints aid me!
But Grimbauld, although he bent over him, closely scrutinizing his face, made no movement to touch him. After a moment or two he seemed satisfied that Raoul indeed slept, and went away again as stealthily as he had come.
A light sweat had broken out on Raoul’s forehead. He lifted his head, frowning into the darkness. If Grimbauld meant to slay the Duke, why had he not stepped over the apparently drugged man at the door, and gone in to do the foul deed at once? There were six men to answer to his call; he surely ran no risk. But the scullions and the men-at-arms were within hail: Raoul had forgotten them. They could not all have been drugged, and if an alarm was given some at least would run in to the Duke’s rescue.
He got to his feet suddenly. Why had Humphrey de Bohun gone out with his knights? And what connection with all this dark business had had that dust-stained stranger whom he had seen coming out of Guy’s chamber before the day of the bear-hunt? Guy must be implicated in this, and Guy would not move unless he had a strong following at his back. Some foul treachery was afoot, more
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