"Well?"
Trempwick put down the records he had been reading, struggling to mask his surprise. Either Nell's movements were getting quieter or his hearing was fading. He had not heard her enter the room at all, though granted he had not closed the door. "God's blessed mercy, I am getting old," he breathed.
"What was that?"
Trempwick allowed himself a hint of a smile. It seemed youth and the ability to move like a cat didn't gift supernatural hearing. "How may I help your Highness?"
"You have something. I can tell." Nell settled herself next to him in the window seat and leaned forward with elbows on her knees. Scrutinising him. "When you last spoke with my sister you came back pensive. I could all but see your mind working over the pieces. Now you are occupying yourself with other things," she gestured at his reading, "and I know that means you are letting something settle."
"Quite correct." With that admission Trempwick's mind clicked back into sharp focus, the looseness his reading had allowed vanishing like mist before the sun. Too soon. He'd not yet found best way to put it to her. Utmost caution needed else he would doom himself.
"And you have not yet seen fit to inform me of whatever it is you have discovered."
Frowned at the tone of rebuke. "You did not inform me that I must come to you the very heartbeat I identified the possibility of something I could
think about, dearest Nell."
"I commanded that you keep me well informed."
"And indeed I shall."
"I would know what you have found that is so worth consideration." She sat up. Those eyes cold. Suspicious. Not good at all. "I would know why it has taken you near all of the day to admit to me that you found something. Why you still do not tell me, so I may think on it myself." She leaned in, said softly. "A spymaster must know every strand of the web. Particularly when dealing with untrustworthy agents."
Not good at all. Summoned his own version of that chill regard. "A spymaster must know when it is best not to interfere with what she has set in motion."
She sat back. Cocked her head to one side. "An entire day, Raoul. What have you learned, and what are you plotting?"
No. It could not work like this. Would be requesting something ungrantable. Would further promote suspicion. Sat back. Relaxed his aggressive front as much as she had hers. "Beloved Nell, you make my position rather difficult. I have ... little to speak of. Unconnected details which begin to come together. I feel I am close to seeing a way. Close - not yet there."
"Then tell me these details. Give me a reason to be less wary of you."
Closed his eyes, slumped back against the wall. Let his mind loosen again. Let his thoughts wander, let them slow down, let things unrelated to the problem of Adele re-enter his mind. Trempwick let the inner spymaster go back to sleep; it took wilful effort. His hand stroked the records resting in his lap, the parchment's fine grain making his fingertips tingle. "I found these amongst the castle's stores. They relate to the original castle, do you know? They are the construction order. William the Bastard's mark is on them, his seal too. A great wooden fortification -"
Nell interrupted, "And I would care precisely why?"
Almost he laughed; why indeed? She had never been one for history. But then once nor, truly, had he. "I write a history of the Kings of England, remember? And here, in my hands, is one piece of that history. The start of one of the most important castles in this land. The mark of the first king of your line."
She scowled. "A dead man, a castle long since built over, and nothing at all to do with my sister."
"No," he corrected gently. "It has a little to do with your sister. The loosest, littlest bit." He arranged the parchment so that the seal and cross-shaped mark that was the illiterate William's signature were oriented towards her. "This." Reverently he touched the mark. "Him. Your four times great-grandsire. Your most famous grandsire, the man who took the crown in battle and held the country by the strength of his sword."
Nell spared the mark a moment of attention. "He is more a legend than a man."
"Yes." Trempwick rolled up the parchment with brisk, efficient movements. "And no. There is a man who may be glimpsed from time to time in records like this. In events. Hastings. The Harrying of the North. Think on what would cause a man to do such things, and there indeed one can see a shadow of the man who was your many times great-grandsire. An iron will. A great confidence in himself and those who stood at his side. A degree of justice, harsh and hard yes, but neither of those actions were taken without great provocation to him-"
"My sister," she promoted, though with less of her earlier severity.
"One great battle, the total destruction of the northlands, not to mention his many wars in Normandy and, later, against his own son. The deaths of many thousands, untold suffering for many thousands more. The English, for their treachery in giving their crown to another against William's right, had their way of life trampled underfoot. Some remains, much more was lost if earlier records -"
"My sister!"
This time Trempwick did allow himself a smile. "But you already know what was said in the garden, dearest Nell."
She betrayed no reaction. "She believes our family cursed by his deeds."
And in the back of Trempwick's mind the pieces came together with a click. He could see how to approach this. "You wish her to take vows. She believes there is a sin to atone for. The two may be made to work together. To prod her along the path, the unexpected revelation your knight so helpfully provided. And an offer of trade; guide her to ask for manageable things in exchange for doing as we wish." He let that sit for a heartbeat, then added quietly, "But Nell, it must be me who does this. I will prod, and I will guide. She will heed me in a way she will not any other."
She took a deep, slow intake of breath. "You expect me to allow this? To leave you a free hand and trust - trust! - that you do not betray me in some way?"
"A trade, dearest Nell." Trempwick set the rolled parchment to one side and extended his hand to her. "In return for managing your sister to your satisfaction you will give me something I value greatly. Something I want far more than a chance to try my hand once again at removing that ignoble bastard who squats on my dead friend's throne. Take my hand on it and I will consider myself bound."
"And what could you possibly value so greatly?" She regarded his outstretched hand as though it were a viper.
"That I shall tell you once our work is done."
"You know I will make no blind bargain."
"Naturally. So, I say this: you will promise to listen to my request and give it fair consideration, and you will grant it unless you find some grave danger in it." He extended his hand another inch or two towards her, insistent. "You will not deny me from spite. You will not deny me from suspicion. You will not deny me because you cannot understand why I would ask for this thing. You will not deny me, in short, for anything save a good reason."
"So you would ask for two gains from this."
"No," he said quickly. "No. What you offered me before, I no longer want. Occasional, limited access to correspondence - no, I do not want that. All I would have of this is what I will now request. Deny me that and I will take nothing."
"And why not simply tell me what you want now? Why make such a mystery of it?"
In this the truth would serve him best. "Because, my most dear Nell, you will view any bargain struck with me as one struck with the devil. Were I to simply state my desire you would dismiss it and search for something more hidden behind it. Whereas this way you may believe there is some honesty when I finally do ask."
She quoted a popular saying, "When one sups with the devil one should bring a long spoon."
Now to add the second truth to round matters off. "Should you choose to deny me I would be grateful to be spared the humiliation of keeping your company with the awkwardness of my having bared a portion of my soul to ill effect hanging between us. So best it comes shortly before we part ways."
Her eyes narrowed. "I mislike the sounds of this request of yours."
Trempwick set on hand over his heart and held the other up in an attitude of taking an oath. "I swear that I shall ask for nothing which will impinge on your honour, threaten the realm or yourself, bring harm to you or any you consider under your ward, place you in a difficult position at court or with your brother or husband, or otherwise knock apples from your little cart." He lowered his hand and once again extended it to her.
After a long gap Nell said, "I will agree to nothing more than listen to this request of yours.
If you work to my complete satisfaction. I will deny it utterly if I see fit. And should you give me cause to think it the best course, I will still have you killed, so beware. I will see you dead before I permit you to use her as you tried to use me." She took his hand to seal the pact. "Knock apples off my little cart?"
Trempwick shrugged. "A turn of phrase which occurred to me and I found amusing." God knew he needed amusement from somewhere; there was none to be found in this work. Twisting a damaged soul to turn from the life she had dreamed of during captivity in favour of another kind of prison. He muttered, "Getting old."
Nell raised an eyebrow in askance.
"No matter." He rose. "I will say this: your sister and yourself have one main thing in common at present. Most disconcerting - trying, really. A trial"
She looked up at him from under her brows, amusingly wary. "And that would be?"
He took a moment to decide how to reveal this to maximum effect. "My dearest, most beloved Nell, simply, to those rare few with eyes to see, you both exude a degree of desperation for someone to be close to you. Though you hide it far better than she." Taking advantage of her stunned silence he brushed his fingertips across her cheek. "Simple human contact to keep the gnawing things at bay." He placed two fingers over her heart. "Things which gnaw there." Trempwick patted Nell on the shoulder and began to walk away. “Retrieve that husband of yours soon. I blame this high level of tetchiness – even for you and that is saying something! – on prolonged abandonment.”
Utterly flabbergasted she couldn’t managed any reply better than “Urk!”
He winked, tapped his fingers to his forehead in a salute, and sauntered off. Something impacted the doorway near his head as he passed through; he didn't pause to find out what.
Once safely away he slowed down. He let the trace of mirth drain away on a lengthy sigh. A trial indeed. One he cared for too deeply to allow her to sink into the bleakness that came from horror endured, the other he must cast into that selfsame abyss. It ate at him. His pace quickened, carrying him towards the castle's records and the reading he could find to aid his writing. His own answer to the gnawing now his friends were dead and Elgiva barred from seeing him again. No human contact left for him now. "Too damned old, and soft in the head to add to my penance," he muttered.
"The king will see you now."
Fulk had been waiting in attendance for so long that at first the words did not register. He looked up and found a page waiting with an expression of carefully concealed awe. "Now?" he asked stupidly.
"At once." The boy turned away and pulled open the door to the chamber where Hugh had been holding audience.
Rising from the wooden bench with difficulty - he'd been sat there since early this morning and had only moved to go to the privy twice - Fulk strode through the empty hall. He was the last person waiting for audience; every single other who had presented themselves today had been called in before him. Every single one had seen him, the king's brother-by-law sat there passed over as a mark of disfavour. They had avoided his company, leaving distance as though he carried a disease. When the light began to fade he was the only one left waiting, and only a minimum of torches had been lit to prevent his sitting there in total dark. He had passed the time reading the letter Eleanor had sent him from Dover, a message which had only reached him by the good fortune of his party running into her messenger on the road. She had sent him three words only, 'Mea maxima culpa' - my most grievous error. If this went well he would be able to go and find her. Then he would have something to say about those three words.
The door closed behind him. Blinking in the brighter illumination that filled Hugh's chamber Fulk made his obeisance and held it, thinking it best to act humbly.
"Rise."
Fulk did so, and waited.
Hugh positioned himself so they stood face to face, and clasped his hands behind his back. "I always endeavour to keep the man alive as well as the king," he said, almost conversationally. "I will not repeat my lord father's error and allow the crown to swallow those aspects of myself which do not belong to power and ruling. Sometimes it is difficult. The crown is demanding. To rule well I must be more and better than a man. Sometimes. To be impartial, to make difficult decisions. At other times it is the simplest thing in the world."
The next thing Fulk knew he was reeling backwards fighting to keep his feet, stars exploding across the left side of his vision. He clapped a hand to his face even as he raised the other into a defensive position.
"You arrogant churl!" shouted Hugh.
Fulk brought his hand away from his face; already he could tell he was going to have a stunning black eye. "I-"
Hugh brandished a finger. "Silence! Let a man have his say. Then we will come to the king and to your excuses, whatever they may be."
This would be the easier part of the interview, Fulk knew. Compared to what he had come to do his brother-by-law's rage was a mere rainy day. All the same it was not easy to stand passively.
"I told you when you married my sister that you had best take care of her. I told you, did I not?"
It seemed that an answer was required. "You did, and I said-"
"I expected better of you than this. I am gravely, deeply disappointed." Hugh clenched his fists and held them up before Fulk's face. "I tell you this, I would pulverise you if I did not know it would grieve her more deeply!"
"I can respect a man for standing up for his sister-" Fulk raised an arm to guard his face, thinking that Hugh was about to punch him again. Fortunately the other man didn't act on the impulse that a twitch of his muscles had betrayed. "I can respect it. I would do the same had I a sister of my own and felt she had been wronged." Again he saw that telltale indication that Hugh was tempted to strike him. Moving back a pace Fulk appealed, "Is it any more right to attack a man you know cannot fight back? You may say you act as a brother and not a king but this is no brawl on the village green!"
"That is not an argument I expected to hear from you."
"Or is it one you did not wish to hear?"
Hugh's lip curled with contempt. "You are not half so smooth when you are in the wrong and called upon it."
Tempted to show his brother-by-law precisely how smooth he could be, Fulk instead massaged his swelling eye. "Were we on the village green I would tell you that it is nobody's business to interfere between a man and his wife, least of all one who has no real idea what's happened. And if you came for me again I would break your nose."
"I had considered that option," Hugh said, his manner surprisingly friendly compared to before. "I understand that my sister finds the current set of your face to be attractive. She would have been terribly vexed with me had I broken it."
Fulk found himself grinning. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"
"Arthur is not yet old enough to assume the throne," Hugh said dryly. "I believe the man has had his say. Remember in future that, difficult as our relationship is and much as I deplore her many foibles, I will stand by my sister to the utmost in private family matters. As an elder brother should." He examined the knuckles of his right hand for damage. "Should the brother be called upon again I will nor restrain myself. Not for my sister's preferences, and not for your feeling that you cannot defend yourself." He lowered his fist. "I pray that is understood most clearly, and taken to heart."
Well, that meant there were a whole two occasions now where Hugh had acted like a brother Fulk could respect instead of one deserving a sturdy punch to the balls. The first, of course, being the time he'd told Fulk he'd better be a good husband.
"And now for the king." Hugh settled himself in the high-backed chair he'd been using as a makeshift throne. "On your knees, Alnwick, and explain what you mean by threatening to destabilise my realm."
Suppressing a groan Fulk lowered himself to his knees. "It is not easy-"
"Because there can be no good cause!"
"With respect, sire, that is not entirely true."
"Oh?" Hugh began to drum his fingers on the arm of the chair. "There is a sound reason for walking away from your wife, whom I remind you happens to be my sister, the only sister then present in England and the selfsame sister about whom a civil war formed in a treacherous bid to steal my throne? Because honestly I admit I was not aware of one."
When had Hugh become such a sarcastic bastard?
"After all," Hugh continued, his voice flat as a tabletop, "you have only announced far and wide that my royal sister is not good enough for you, a baseborn bastard. Thus throwing her into humiliation, and tainting the family as a whole. You have also ensured that everybody is aware that the marriage which moved her away from my throne is now endangered, and thus, I fear, sparked ideas amongst certain minds. Ideas concerning finding a new, more suitable husband for her." Hugh stopped tapping his fingers and pressed his hand flat on the chair's arm. "Yes, I would much like to hear this most excellent reason for recreating certain of the conditions which led to civil war a mere three years ago."
"It is a private matter, sire."
"When it touches upon the safety of my realm it cannot be."
Fulk would be damned before he discussed the details of his marriage with Hugh. It was none of his business. "Sire, I came here with a request-"
"You came here because I summoned you."
"I was already on the road when your summons found me."
"Very bold of you, to think of requesting anything of me having caused me so much discomfort."
"I have a solution to the problem which caused strife between Eleanor and myself. It needs your blessing."
Hugh left him to stew for a bit before saying, "Then get up and tell me. And I warn you, whatever you may believe to be the solution and whether I grant it or no, you will return to her and you will resume living under the same roof, to all intents and purposes a perfectly happy couple. Or I will have you destroyed and find her a new husband myself."
"The lack of an heir causes difficulty between us." Back on his feet Fulk felt better able to face what he needed to. Hard enough without grovelling on the ground.
"I will not change my decree. I will permit no child born of your mismatch to threaten my own."
"I did not come to request that." Fulk cast about for a way to make this bearable, then decided that the best way to pull an arrow was to do so quickly. "With your permission - and a decree to support it, make it legal - we could take a child not of our joined blood to be our heir. One close enough to be family, but one who under normal circumstances would not be considered in the line of succession."
Hugh's gaze pierced Fulk to his core, made the shame boiling there threaten to consume him. "And whose child would this putative heir be?"
It was the only way. To get Eleanor back he had to put the question of an heir to rest. It was too late to go back, much too late, had been too late since that night when he'd got drunk enough to stomach making a decision. Tense, almost shaking at the ignominy of it, Fulk answered and in so doing revealed his sin against his wife.
A couple of weeks ago I had this feeling that if I started writing and kept on going I'd finish the entire story in one go and manage to get it quite close to how it was meant to be. Unfortunately I was at work. By the time I got home the feeling had gone. I waited to see if it would come back; it hasn't. So we plod onwards.
Quite amusing how Hugh unbends enough to play big brother for a bit. Especially considering his attitude to Nell when they met at the start. Thing is, while it's rather unexpected for him to punch someone, it's exactly what you'd expect if you gave it a bit of thought. He's so concerned with doing the proper thing, and what else is a big brother meant to do when his little sister gets upset by a boyfriend?
NB: Elgiva was Trempy's long-standing mistress from the main story. Each time he went on what Nell dubbed 'a spymaster's holiday' he went to see her and spend some time with his guard relaxed, his mind free of plans, and no work to bother him. That's how he used to cope when the responsibility, stress, deaths, and what have you.
