others worry about the harvests and see to the welfare of everything that underpinned the world. What else are servants for? Longespee had asked on more than one occasion.
Longespee bowed in return. 'I pray you greet my lady mother on my behalf and tell her I will bring Ela to visit on my return.'
'I will do so.'
Longespee continued on to his tent and began issuing commands. Hugh let out his breath on a hard sigh, unclenched his fists and flexed his hands to ease the tendons.
'At least sending troops to La Rochelle with a commander he can trust is sound strategy on John's part,' Roger said. 'It will keep him a thorn in King Philip's rear and it is something that's feasible to accomplish. It's good employment for Longespee too. He might be as irritating as a hair shirt, but there is no denying his skill as a soldier.'
Hugh wrestled with his antipathy. In fairness, despite his insufferable air of superiority, his half-brother's military and maritime abilities had to be acknowledged. Realising that his father was watching him with knowing eyes, he stilled the motion of his hands.
'Longespee is valuable to the King, and valuable to our family because of it,' Roger said. 'Your mother cherishes him; he is my stepson and your half-brother. For all these reasons I make him welcome . . .'
'Sire,' Hugh replied stiffly.
'. . . but he is not a Bigod.'
The subtle humour in his father's remark changed Hugh's expression. He began to grin, and then could not help a chuckle. 'God forbid.'
His father slapped him on the shoulder. 'Come,' he said. 'The horses are saddled and we can leave. Let the baggage follow at leisure.'
7
Hamstead Marshal, Berkshire, July 1205
Mahelt sat on Richard's bed in the chamber her brothers shared, her world in tatters. Will's bed was a stripped frame. The mattress had been rolled up, secured with straps and put on the packhorse together with the sheets and bolsters. His clothing chest was empty, his gaming board and box of bone counters gone. No garments draped the hanging poles and no mantle or hood occupied the wall peg. Two nights ago they had played dice together in here, bantering with argumentative pleasure, the atmosphere full and vibrant. Now nothing of his presence remained to say he had even existed. Mahelt stared down at the small, colourful piece of green and yellow silk folded in her hands. She could not believe King John had demanded Will as a hostage for her family's loyalty and she was still reeling from the knowledge that her father had agreed to give him up. There had been trouble at court because her father had pledged himself to the King of France for their Norman lands in order to safeguard them until Richard came of age. Now, in retaliation, John had demanded Will. She had been told that her brother was going to be a squire and it was a positive thing for him: it would broaden his horizons and be a valuable part of his training; but Mahelt knew the words were a colourful gauze covering a turd. Her parents had quarrelled over John's demand. Her mother had wanted to refuse, but her father said they had no choice - and his word was law. Never before had Mahelt's security been threatened by division in the household and she was deeply upset and angry.
The door opened and Will entered. He was cloaked and booted for his journey, a dark cap with a rolled brim covering his hair. His set expression gave nothing away, but Mahelt knew he didn't want to go - not to John.
'What are you doing here?' he asked curtly. 'Everyone's waiting in the yard.'
Mahelt lifted her chin. 'I could ask the same of you.'
'Making sure I haven't left anything behind.' He crouched and extended his hand to Tripes, who had been snuffling round the corners of the room but came to lick him, then rolled over for a tummy rub.
Her throat constricted. 'That's what I was doing . . . but you haven't, I've checked.' Tears filled her eyes as she held out the piece of folded silk. 'I was going to give you
Longespee bowed in return. 'I pray you greet my lady mother on my behalf and tell her I will bring Ela to visit on my return.'
'I will do so.'
Longespee continued on to his tent and began issuing commands. Hugh let out his breath on a hard sigh, unclenched his fists and flexed his hands to ease the tendons.
'At least sending troops to La Rochelle with a commander he can trust is sound strategy on John's part,' Roger said. 'It will keep him a thorn in King Philip's rear and it is something that's feasible to accomplish. It's good employment for Longespee too. He might be as irritating as a hair shirt, but there is no denying his skill as a soldier.'
Hugh wrestled with his antipathy. In fairness, despite his insufferable air of superiority, his half-brother's military and maritime abilities had to be acknowledged. Realising that his father was watching him with knowing eyes, he stilled the motion of his hands.
'Longespee is valuable to the King, and valuable to our family because of it,' Roger said. 'Your mother cherishes him; he is my stepson and your half-brother. For all these reasons I make him welcome . . .'
'Sire,' Hugh replied stiffly.
'. . . but he is not a Bigod.'
The subtle humour in his father's remark changed Hugh's expression. He began to grin, and then could not help a chuckle. 'God forbid.'
His father slapped him on the shoulder. 'Come,' he said. 'The horses are saddled and we can leave. Let the baggage follow at leisure.'
7
Hamstead Marshal, Berkshire, July 1205
Mahelt sat on Richard's bed in the chamber her brothers shared, her world in tatters. Will's bed was a stripped frame. The mattress had been rolled up, secured with straps and put on the packhorse together with the sheets and bolsters. His clothing chest was empty, his gaming board and box of bone counters gone. No garments draped the hanging poles and no mantle or hood occupied the wall peg. Two nights ago they had played dice together in here, bantering with argumentative pleasure, the atmosphere full and vibrant. Now nothing of his presence remained to say he had even existed. Mahelt stared down at the small, colourful piece of green and yellow silk folded in her hands. She could not believe King John had demanded Will as a hostage for her family's loyalty and she was still reeling from the knowledge that her father had agreed to give him up. There had been trouble at court because her father had pledged himself to the King of France for their Norman lands in order to safeguard them until Richard came of age. Now, in retaliation, John had demanded Will. She had been told that her brother was going to be a squire and it was a positive thing for him: it would broaden his horizons and be a valuable part of his training; but Mahelt knew the words were a colourful gauze covering a turd. Her parents had quarrelled over John's demand. Her mother had wanted to refuse, but her father said they had no choice - and his word was law. Never before had Mahelt's security been threatened by division in the household and she was deeply upset and angry.
The door opened and Will entered. He was cloaked and booted for his journey, a dark cap with a rolled brim covering his hair. His set expression gave nothing away, but Mahelt knew he didn't want to go - not to John.
'What are you doing here?' he asked curtly. 'Everyone's waiting in the yard.'
Mahelt lifted her chin. 'I could ask the same of you.'
'Making sure I haven't left anything behind.' He crouched and extended his hand to Tripes, who had been snuffling round the corners of the room but came to lick him, then rolled over for a tummy rub.
Her throat constricted. 'That's what I was doing . . . but you haven't, I've checked.' Tears filled her eyes as she held out the piece of folded silk. 'I was going to give you
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