needs before anyone
else’s. It was the thought of returning to her from the wars against the Scots
that had led him to make his way home via the shrine at Walsingham. The longer
and more difficult journey had given him time to discover in his memory some of
his wife’s better points and to remember his obligations to her.
He knew that he would always return by the quickest way
possible to a woman like Alais. Her first words had not been for herself or her
mother, but for him and her concern made him feel a better man than he knew
himself to be.
Alais entered the courtyard with the stable boy. In the
time she had spent with Marion, Edmund had roused the priest. The carter had
also hitched up the cart and a number of the wounded townspeople were lying in
it. Alais’ expression darkened; she knew that the cart would also serve to
bring her mother’s body back here for burial.
Women and children from the town were milling around the
courtyard together with some of the servants that she had seen the day before.
The men were heavily armed; they had taken Hugh’s stories about looters to
heart.
Hugh was standing holding his own horse and a smaller
one, for her. She smiled when she saw him and he responded in kind.
“What will happen to Marion?” she asked Hugh as he
helped her to mount her horse.
Hugh seemed astonished that she should care enough to
ask. “She will stay here and when the baby is born, if she still is not
recovered, she can still stay here and we will look after her. I will make sure
that he is acknowledged as the heir and that there is something for him to
inherit.”
Alais wondered if that meant that Hugh had money of his
own, or whether he expected that by that time his father would have died and
she would permit him to use some of his inheritance to help the child. She knew
that she would, when the time came.
“Although,” said Hugh looking out over the still smoking
town, “it will be a long time before there is anything worth inheriting down
there.”
She followed his gaze. The walls of the town looked
strong and it was impossible from this distance to see the extent of the
destruction. Then she realised that she could not see any church towers above
the walls in the southern part of the town.
“They burned the churches,” she whispered.
“Burned the churches, burned the people inside them,
killed the priests, killed the animals in the market, burned the wool on the
wharves, burned the houses. It seems it was not an invasion after all. They
came to destroy, not to conquer.” Hugh’s voice was bitter. Alais saw the
despair and grief on his face and also the confusion. “What was the point?” he
asked, looking at a point beyond her. “Where is the glory in killing
defenceless children, in raping pregnant women? Why risk God’s judgement by
killing people at Mass?”
Alais had no answer for him; she was too caught up in
her own grief and questions to be able to console him.
Hugh helped her onto the horse and the small group set
off.
As they came to the town Hugh explained how he had
managed to find Lady Eleanor, still in St Michael’s church, badly wounded, but
ignored in the haste of the French to kill and destroy as much as they could
before they were turned back.
Alais felt tears come to her eyes as he described how he
had taken her mother to friends in Cuckoo Lane who had themselves suffered
losses in the raid. “They are good people,” he said, “and Dame Margaret is
skilled with herbs. She made sure that Lady Eleanor was comfortable.”
“Thank you,” murmured Alais, as she set her face and her
heart to face the death of her mother.
The scene that met Alais on their entry into the town
was very different from the one that had presented itself on her arrival three
days ago. The town was unnaturally quiet, as if people were afraid to speak
above a whisper. The few people they saw were clearing up after the fires and
all were armed.
The smell was incredible.
else’s. It was the thought of returning to her from the wars against the Scots
that had led him to make his way home via the shrine at Walsingham. The longer
and more difficult journey had given him time to discover in his memory some of
his wife’s better points and to remember his obligations to her.
He knew that he would always return by the quickest way
possible to a woman like Alais. Her first words had not been for herself or her
mother, but for him and her concern made him feel a better man than he knew
himself to be.
Alais entered the courtyard with the stable boy. In the
time she had spent with Marion, Edmund had roused the priest. The carter had
also hitched up the cart and a number of the wounded townspeople were lying in
it. Alais’ expression darkened; she knew that the cart would also serve to
bring her mother’s body back here for burial.
Women and children from the town were milling around the
courtyard together with some of the servants that she had seen the day before.
The men were heavily armed; they had taken Hugh’s stories about looters to
heart.
Hugh was standing holding his own horse and a smaller
one, for her. She smiled when she saw him and he responded in kind.
“What will happen to Marion?” she asked Hugh as he
helped her to mount her horse.
Hugh seemed astonished that she should care enough to
ask. “She will stay here and when the baby is born, if she still is not
recovered, she can still stay here and we will look after her. I will make sure
that he is acknowledged as the heir and that there is something for him to
inherit.”
Alais wondered if that meant that Hugh had money of his
own, or whether he expected that by that time his father would have died and
she would permit him to use some of his inheritance to help the child. She knew
that she would, when the time came.
“Although,” said Hugh looking out over the still smoking
town, “it will be a long time before there is anything worth inheriting down
there.”
She followed his gaze. The walls of the town looked
strong and it was impossible from this distance to see the extent of the
destruction. Then she realised that she could not see any church towers above
the walls in the southern part of the town.
“They burned the churches,” she whispered.
“Burned the churches, burned the people inside them,
killed the priests, killed the animals in the market, burned the wool on the
wharves, burned the houses. It seems it was not an invasion after all. They
came to destroy, not to conquer.” Hugh’s voice was bitter. Alais saw the
despair and grief on his face and also the confusion. “What was the point?” he
asked, looking at a point beyond her. “Where is the glory in killing
defenceless children, in raping pregnant women? Why risk God’s judgement by
killing people at Mass?”
Alais had no answer for him; she was too caught up in
her own grief and questions to be able to console him.
Hugh helped her onto the horse and the small group set
off.
As they came to the town Hugh explained how he had
managed to find Lady Eleanor, still in St Michael’s church, badly wounded, but
ignored in the haste of the French to kill and destroy as much as they could
before they were turned back.
Alais felt tears come to her eyes as he described how he
had taken her mother to friends in Cuckoo Lane who had themselves suffered
losses in the raid. “They are good people,” he said, “and Dame Margaret is
skilled with herbs. She made sure that Lady Eleanor was comfortable.”
“Thank you,” murmured Alais, as she set her face and her
heart to face the death of her mother.
The scene that met Alais on their entry into the town
was very different from the one that had presented itself on her arrival three
days ago. The town was unnaturally quiet, as if people were afraid to speak
above a whisper. The few people they saw were clearing up after the fires and
all were armed.
The smell was incredible.
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