Royal Dynasty: Fire Song Part 9

"It is not hard. At the mercers' I will ask for short lengths of stuff, only enough to make a child's gown, but of great richness. At the vintners' I can ask about sweet wines, there are not many such to come out of the vineyards of Bordeaux, such wines as a child would relish. Then at the carpenters', well, I must judge what the shop makes, but it can be toys or a short bed, and, of course, small rings and bracelets at the goldsmiths' shops. No doubt there will then be questions, which I can answer."

"I am not the only clever one," Raymond chuckled approvingly, and then glanced at Aubery, who was looking down at his wife in a slightly bemused fas.h.i.+on. "Alas," he exclaimed, grinning, "I fear we should not have so openly exposed Fenice's devious mind in front of Aubery." Raymond was accustomed to having a very strong, clever wife and had long since come to the conclusion that it was the best thing that could happen to any man.

"Oh, Papa, no!" Fenice cried. "Aubery could not think I would ever deceive him or tell him an untruth."

Aubery shook his head. "I never thought that," he said quite truthfully, having the confidence of the ignorant.

What had surprised Aubery was Fenice's agility of mind-for he would not himself have thought of the expedients she had suggested-her willingness to be involved, and her confidence in her abilities. Not only would Matilda have been incapable of propounding the plan Fenice had produced in a moment, but she would have been most unwilling to bestir herself for a purpose so foreign to her own interests. Beyond that, she would have been frightened to death that she would not be able to do what was desired.

"Well, of course you would not lie to your husband," Alys exclaimed with outraged innocence, adding under her breath, "unless it was for the beloved dolt's own good." Then she said aloud, "Come here with me, Fenice, and let us decide what you are to wear. It must be just right, neither too rich nor too simple, and have a tinge of the Moorish, too, if possible."

Fenice moved away from Aubery's side at once, and a flicker of emotion pa.s.sed through him, impatience at her instant obedience to Alys's command. He knew it was only natural, a habit of long standing, and that no reflection was intended on his authority over her. Nonetheless, he was suddenly seized by a desire to have her all to himself where her eyes would turn only to him for commands or rea.s.surance.

Chapter Twelve.

All the events planned to precede King Henry's arrival were just barely completed in time. Three days after Aubery and Fenice's wedding, the first s.h.i.+ps of the fleet coming from England sailed past Blancheforte down the Gironde to make port in Bordeaux. Having taken part in the arrangements for quartering the king, his n.o.bles, and the army, Raymond, William, and Aubery rode hurriedly into the town as soon as a lookout reported many sails.

There was the usual confusion of landing a large party, the hysterical horses to control, men to be directed away from the docks and yet not allowed to lose themselves in a strange place, the baggage to be sorted. Although he was too busy to ride back to Blancheforte himself that night, Aubery remembered to send a messenger to tell Fenice he would not come home. He did not stop to think that Raymond and William would surely have sent a similar message to Alys, and that a separate messenger to Fenice was not necessary, but the habits established to rea.s.sure Matilda's timid heart took over. Actually, Aubery did not think Fenice timid or likely to be frightened, since she understood the circ.u.mstances, but busy as he was, he did not separate Fenice from the vague consciousness of "wife" in his mind, and it was to that consciousness that he reacted.

Formal dinners, presentations, and avowals-however insincere-of perfect loyalty filled the next day, and it was not until late afternoon that Aubery at last found himself alone with his overlord, the Earl of Hereford.

"Sit, sit," Humphery de Bohun said, gesturing at a stool. "Did you finish your private business?"

"Yes, my lord," Aubery replied. "I was married four days since to Fenice d'Aix, the natural daughter of the heir to the Comte d'Aix. The lands are settled greatly to my satisfaction also. But did you get my letter?"

Hereford had been smiling in acknowledgment of the success of the marriage plans. He had guessed how much Aubery desired Marlowe, although the young man had never admitted it. Aubery had been in Hereford's household as page, squire, and then trusted retainer, and de Bohun knew him well. As a child, hurt or sick, he cried for his mother or Sir William of Marlowe, never for his own father, and as a man, when he spoke with love of a place, it was always of Marlowe.

But Aubery's question changed the smile of approval to a scowl. "I did," Hereford replied, "and what I have heard yesterday and today a.s.sures me that your warning of food shortages was justified. I talked to the king, but what good it has done-" He shrugged dyspeptically.

Aubery just stared. A number of remarks, none of them complimentary to the king's mental ability, leapt into his mind, but he knew better than to say them aloud and further exacerbate his overlord's hot temper. Ordinarily the fertile lands around Bordeaux not only fed the town itself but s.h.i.+pped out grain and produce. It was the fact that the king and Hereford knew the area themselves and would expect supplies to be readily available that had prompted Aubery to write to explain the changed circ.u.mstances.

Having swallowed his own disgust, Aubery said mildly, "I fear there will be trouble. If those responsible for procuring supplies are not informed, will they not feel the high prices are an attempt to cheat them?"

"I have done and will do my best in that direction, and perhaps it will save a few broken heads-not that I mind a few merchants having their heads broken. That moderates the behavior of the others. However, the next thing I know, the king will be bewailing the barbarity of Englishmen and demanding that, as constable of the forces, I order our men to be punished and so brought to respect the more refined ways of the Gascons."

Somewhat alarmed at the color Hereford's face had turned, Aubery said, "But I do not think he is in such perfect charity with the Gascons at this time, so you may be spared-"

"He is in charity with anyone but his own natural subjects," Hereford grated.

King Henry's predilection for his wife's relatives and for his own uterine brothers, Guy, Geoffrey, and Aymer de Lusignan, was a perennial source of outrage to his English barons. They felt that the foreigners' rapacious demands kept the king in a constant state of penury so that his demands for money were, at least in the opinion of his n.o.blemen, insatiable. Aubery was little more fond than his overlord of the plague of Lusignans. He disliked their contemptuous pride and their scorn of everything English, except the money they could draw from the country, but he did not see that a repet.i.tion of complaints he had heard many times could help the situation.

"I hope we will not stay long in Bordeaux," Aubery said, hoping to change an unfruitful subject.

"G.o.d alone knows," Hereford groaned. "On the s.h.i.+p the king could hardly wait to put on his armor and rush off to La Reole. Once the dinners started, he began to talk about hearing his Gascon subjects' opinions on which place to attack."

"Well, you need not worry that the Coloms or the de Solers will try to detain him in Bordeaux. Usually each side wants to influence him as much as possible, but they seem to be agreed, at least, that is what Raymond says, that he had better take back La Reole and St. Emilion and the other places first."

"So that if we cannot do it, they can offer themselves to Gaston de Bearn or Castile, I suppose," Hereford said, his lips twisting.

"I suppose so, although Raymond will be faithful. Not that it would be much help, for Blancheforte is small and old and barely a mile from Bordeaux. Another thing, there is an interesting rumor abroad that Henry is negotiating with Alfonso to obtain his half sister Eleanor as Edward's wife."

"Is there?" Hereford remarked. "I know that it was talked of before the old King of Castile died. When did you hear of this?"

"Only since I have been here," Aubery said cautiously.

"That is very interesting," Hereford said, "but I am not sure Alfonso would agree, with Gascony in so great disorder. Still, if we can make a start by taking La Reole, which is the strongest of the rebel fortresses, it would show that Bearn has not the strength to support his followers. Well, I will do what I can to make sure that our strength is not wasted in idleness."

"Raymond will also, my lord. Of that I can a.s.sure you. His lands are close to those of Gaston in the south, and although they are, as you know, related, he does not trust Bearn. Moreover, Raymond is an honorable man, and he gave his fealty to King Henry."

"He is Queen Eleanor's cousin-no, nephew."

"Yes, his father is the natural son of the late Comte de Provence, Raymond-Berenger, and the queen is very fond of Raymond."

Hereford smiled. "And you have married his daughter. Her relations.h.i.+p to the queen will do you no harm. Are you content with the girl? You said the land settlement was pleasing to you. What of the wife?"

"I have no complaint," Aubery said.

Not expecting wild enthusiasm for a marriage made to secure an estate, Hereford was satisfied with Aubery's tepid reply. "Well, you must present her to me," he urged, "as soon as I know that I will have a few hours of freedom. I will let you go now. You may attend me at prime tomorrow. Until then, since Blancheforte is so close, go home and enjoy your wife."

Aubery rose and bowed, aware that he was reddening. It was the curse of a fair skin that every emotion showed upon it, even if one's face was still. But Hereford made no remark, he was too fond of Aubery to do that, remembering how distraught Aubery had been when his first wife died and guessing that the young man felt it wrong to show too much pleasure in this second marriage. That was proper, one could not allow a good match to escape for the sake of mourning, but one need not display any excess of joy, either. Still, Hereford was glad that Aubery was enjoying his new wife.

Hoping Hereford had not noticed his flush, Aubery went to reclaim his horse from the earl's stabling. He had not reacted so much to what Hereford had actually said as to the rush of desire he felt at the suggestion, the impulse to do exactly that-ride back to Blancheforte and take Fenice to bed. He could not remember ever having felt that way about Matilda, at least not after they were married. But the pleasure with Fenice was so much greater. Aubery drew a deep breath, rejecting images and recalling sensations that only worsened his temptation. Was he becoming a slave to his own l.u.s.t? To curb himself, he set out to look for Raymond and William.

The message that Aubery had sent off so casually to say he would not return to eat or sleep at Blancheforte had had a greater impact than he could have expected. No one had ever sent Fenice that kind of private message before. She had, of course, received letters, from Alys, from her sister, even, on some special occasions, from her father, but when Delmar had been delayed, either he had left her to guess when he would come or the message had been delivered to his mother.

Feeling as important as a queen, Fenice thanked the messenger, rewarded him with the correct tiny coin-she had seen what Lady Alys had given Raymond's messenger-and bade him ask a servant for refreshment if he desired it. She returned to her work, floating on air with joy. Her hands were busy enough. Lady Alys had given her a considerable quant.i.ty of that type of cloth not common in England and therefore costly there. From it, she was making several tunics and surcoats for Aubery, who had brought mostly clothing fit for fighting, and not much of that. Fenice a.s.sumed that Aubery had not thought about her father's position and that it would be necessary for him to appear with Raymond in situations that required rich clothing. In addition, Alys had warned Fenice not to neglect her own wardrobe. She had had gowns sufficient when she had first been married, but during the time she had been away from Fuveau, Lady Emilie had wreaked havoc with her clothing. Some, Fenice had restored after she had arrived at Blancheforte, but there was still much to do.

Busy hands, however, do not necessarily mean an occupied mind. A practiced and proficient needlewoman, Fenice's hands needed little guidance from her head, and she was free to think over her joy and, too soon, to begin to wonder whether it was a false joy. Fenice certainly had no fault to find with her husband's strength and virility, nor with his eagerness to couple with her, but it was puzzling to her that he often seemed surprised at the things Delmar had taught her. He did not protest, and his reactions showed his pleasure, but when they were finished it seemed to Fenice that most nights Aubery was not totally content. She did not mean physically, Fenice was sure he was wrung dry, but sometimes he would give her a strange, uneasy look and seem about to speak, then change his mind.

And there was another peculiarity; Aubery had never used a love-word to her, not even in the throes of pa.s.sion. Of course, Aubery did not speak much while making love. Fenice preferred that, but... Then she bit her lip. She had not used such words either, but that was because she had not dared. They were often enough on the tip of her tongue. Could Aubery be waiting for her to speak of love? No, it was the man's part to begin, and who was she to offer love unasked?

She put the matter out of her mind, but it returned on and off. She even thought of mentioning the small puzzles to Lady Alys when they ate dinner for the second time in lonely dignity, and ask if she had an answer to them, but somehow she could not. It seemed a private matter between herself and her husband, private even from Lady Alys. Perhaps if they were alone, Fenice thought as she sewed in the garden in the last of the afternoon light, if they were free of the talk of war and famine and free of the demands the others made on his attention, Aubery would have time to notice her more. A shadow fell across her work. She glanced up and jumped to her feet, smiling and holding out her hand, spilling everything to the ground, all doubts forgotten.

Aubery's attempt at self-denial had been fruitless. Raymond had been with the king. William had ridden out of Bordeaux to speak to the leaders of Cornwall's troops, for whom he was responsible as marshal. Aubery could have idled away some hours at an inn or sought the company of the other young men serving with Hereford, but he did not wish to drink for no reason and knew he would be a poor companion. He could resist temptation at Blancheforte with more honesty than sulking in Bordeaux.

But somehow there was nothing to resist. As soon as he entered the hall, a smiling maid told him that Lady Fenice was in the garden. But there was no sly look, no leer in the woman's smile. To her, after ten years service with Alys and Raymond, it was the most natural thing in the world that a husband should seek his wife immediately. And it felt natural to Aubery to walk out again and find Fenice, to laugh with her over her eagerness to greet him, and to help her pick up everything she had dropped. Then she asked for news. Nor, now, did that strike him as so strange. It was very pleasant for him to tell her what he had done and about his conversation with Lord Hereford. Her absorbed interest was flattering, and her anxiety when he mentioned the expectation of marching against La Reole was just right, not enough to distress him but sufficient to show that she was concerned for his safety.

They lingered, talking, until it was too dark for Fenice to see her work, and then went in to join Alys for the evening meal. The news, of course, had to be retold, and William, who had come in a little while after Aubery, added his bit. Raymond was still in Bordeaux and would probably stay the night, so they did not wait up long for him. Both Aubery and William had to be back in the town no more than an hour after sunrise.

And when Aubery and Fenice were undressing, and her rich, creamy skin was bared, the word "temptation" did not enter his mind. It was as natural as their talk that his mouth should fall upon her shoulder, and that she should turn to him with easy grace, with lips that sought him as eagerly as his touched her. It was only after they were done and she lay quiet beside him, her breathing deepening into the rhythm of sleep, that he remembered temptation.

How did she know where to touch him to bring him such pleasure that he shook and cried out incoherent pleas? He blushed when he thought of the helpless moans he had uttered, but all the same his genitals tightened even though he was still lethargic in the wake of past pleasure. Was that right?

But he did not feel helpless at the time. There was nothing in Fenice that gave the impression she was inducing feelings she did not reciprocate or was watching him with contempt. Far otherwise. Her own wordless cries in foreplay, the way she writhed under him while coupling, urging him on in a voice thick and choked with pleasure, or should he put the true name to it, l.u.s.t-was that right either? Another wave of pleasurable sensation coursed through his genitals when he thought of Fenice's strong reactions, but Aubery tried to ignore it.

Did a decent woman act the way Fenice did? Religion and the exhortations of Matilda's favorite priest cried that such pleasure was sin, and the men and women who yielded to it were lewd and l.u.s.tful. But Aubery knew that some priests, despite their vows, were less celibate than he had been after Matilda's death.

If Matilda had been as Fenice-and suddenly his throat was tight with grief and his eyes full of tears. He would have died! He would die himself if Fenice- There he cut off the thought. Fenice was strong and would not die of nothing as Matilda had done. And then Aubery was horrified again at what his mind had brought forth. It was not Matilda's fault that she had died, it was G.o.d's will. He was making less of Matilda to make more of Fenice, and he had started out wondering whether Fenice was decent.

But why? Was it because of Fenice's peculiar uncertainty that the contract would actually be signed, even though everything had already been arranged? Or that odd feeling that Alys had been hiding something from him for a day or two before the wedding? Aubery turned restlessly, and Fenice s.h.i.+fted her position also, slipping an arm under his neck and pulling gently so that his head lay on her shoulder. Her lashes were so dark that Aubery could see them as shadows against her cheeks in the very faint light the night candle sent through the bedcurtains. Her eyes were closed, and she was still asleep. But her hold on him was comforting, and, as if she sensed his disquiet, she pressed a kiss of pure tenderness on his brow.

Chapter Thirteen.

Hereford's fears had been unjustified. Although the king might be unwise sometimes and often too much a prey to his own emotions, he was not at all a fool, and he had become an expert at finding patches, sometimes temporary but sometimes surprisingly long-lasting, for a leaking s.h.i.+p of state. The first step was just what Hereford had envisioned, a strong attack, first on La Reole and then, as success and power permitted, on the other keeps held by the rebel forces encouraged by Gaston de Bearn.

This plan Henry proposed to the loyal n.o.blemen who had come to meet him, and also to the important citizens of Bordeaux during audiences given to individuals and small groups on the afternoon he arrived and the following morning. After another state dinner, the council of Bordeaux had a formal meeting to which the king was invited. As holder of Blancheforte, which had an ancient responsibility for protecting one of the gates of Bordeaux, Raymond held a seat on the council. He had never put himself forward except as a mediator of difficulties, and he was grateful that he would not be called on to mediate during today's meeting since the council was, possibly for the first time in its history, of one opinion.

Raymond and his uncle-by-marriage had always been fond of each other. So, after the meeting of the council, at which a formal pet.i.tion to protect the city by attacking its enemies had been presented to the king, Henry beckoned Raymond to accompany him when he retired to his private chambers.

"It is surprising," Henry remarked cynically, "to find such unanimity of opinion in Bordeaux. I was sure half the council would feel that a reorganization of the council or an investigation of a thousand petty wrongs would be far more important than putting down a rebellion."

Raymond shrugged. "You know what they are, but this matter has grown serious to them. The destruction of the countryside is cutting their profits, and all are affected. As far as offering mixed counsel, they are not stupid, as you well know, my lord. Their echo of your intention to take La Reole first was because they know it is right. They do not want Bearn to win."

"I am the lesser of the evils?" Henry laughed.

"You are more than that. You are a king who understands the special freedom of the cities and towns-"

"Oh, yes," the king said with bitter emphasis. "I am come to understand a great many freedoms, all except my own."

There was a brief uncomfortable pause while Raymond sought a way to change the subject without being too obvious and drawing the king's irritation onto himself. Raymond was annoyed. He had tried to offer Henry a compliment that was true, not mere flattery, and had apparently touched a sore spot of which he had not previously been aware. Actually, Bordeaux's reasons for preferring Henry to Gaston were not very flattering to the king at all.

Simply, the wine trade was tied to England, and a victory for the rebels would almost certainly mean that Henry would cut off that trade. Possibly the cessation would only be temporary, but it was also possible, since there was a truce with France that had already lasted ten years, that English markets would go to French vintners, and stay there. Other markets would be hard to find, since Spain and France grew their own grapes and preferred their own wines. In addition, Gaston was near at hand. Give him more power, and he would be more capable of extortion than a king far away in England.

In trying to avoid reference to such unpalatable truths and yet not lie himself, Raymond had trod amiss, but he realized he had a pleasant red herring with which to draw the king off the trail. Henry was very family-oriented. He was devoted to the members of his own family and was fond of hearing news even of distant relations.

"Speaking of freedom," Raymond said blandly, "or, rather, the loss thereof, I must tell you that my daughter Fenice was married four days ago to Sir William of Marlowe's stepson, Sir Aubery of Ilmer."

"Your daughter?" Henry echoed, frowning. "But surely there could be no haste to marry a mere babe-"

"No, no," Raymond interrupted. "I am sorry, my lord. It is my natural daughter of whom I speak, a mistake of my youth but a lovely, good girl. You are quite right that I have no legitimate daughter old enough to wed."

"Ah!" Now Henry smiled. "I suppose I should censure you for your sins, but this sin seems to have brought a happy result."

"Indeed, my lord, it has, but I a.s.sure you that I did not escape without just punishment, and I sin no more in that way." Raymond shook his head sadly. "I have a jealous wife."

"So your freedom is also curtailed."

Raymond glanced up sharply, but the king was smiling kindly and the teasing was not ill-natured. Raymond knew that Henry was remarkably faithful to his queen. He grinned and nodded.

"Do I know Sir Aubery?" Henry asked. "Sir William is Richard's marshal and a good man, but I cannot remember that he ever presented his stepson."

"Aubery is Hereford's man," Raymond replied. "You may have seen him in pa.s.sing, a big, blond man, very strong-"

"Ah, I do know him," Henry interrupted in a tone of satisfaction. "He is a devil for tournaments and always takes one prize or another. But married to your daughter? Did I not remember Richard telling me that he gave one of his wards to Sir Aubery?"

"Matilda of Ardley, yes. She died late last year, leaving an infant daughter, who is in Lady Elizabeth's care." And then, since Henry seemed interested, he told him of the problem of Marlowe and how the matter was settled. "And with all this talk of marriages and settlements," he ended, oh so casually, "there are rumors that you are planning a marriage between Eleanor of Castile and Prince Edward."

Raymond was prepared to change the subject hastily if Henry showed the kind of temper that indicated he had been found out in one of his little plots. However, although he looked a little surprised, he did not seem at all angry, instead, he sighed.

"I wish I were. And, between yourself and myself, I still hope to bring it about. I suppose the rumors are a late blossoming from some seeds I planted before the death of Alfonso's father. But at that time the matter had gone no further than an inquiry as to whether Castile would welcome such a proposal. It was clear that the king was interested, very much interested, and there did not seem to be any need to hurry. Eleanor was still too young to marry, and just at that moment I did not wish to ask a dispensation from the pope."

"But would not a renewal of the marriage proposal cut the ground from under Bearn?" Raymond asked.

Henry scowled, and his voice grew angry. "I sent a new delegation in May, but they were coolly received and attended only in silence. I suppose after Leicester had caused rebellion, Alfonso felt Gascony would drop into his hand and he could ask even more for his sister. My envoys returned, and I did not send them again lest it seem I needed to plead for Castile's help to control my va.s.sals."

"Of course not," Raymond agreed hastily, although privately he thought Henry's pride was misplaced and doubted Alfonso thought the province an easy prize to take. "But I still believe that the claim to Gascony was only laid to draw you into negotiations."

"Perhaps," Henry replied more moderately, but still frowning. "But I do not like to negotiate under a threat. Besides, who knows what lies that treacherous and ungrateful dog Bearn has told. If Alfonso thought Bearn could hand Gascony to him, he might have refused in such a way as to end the possibility of the marriage for all time."

Raymond thought Alfonso too sensible and too cautious to act so foolishly on the basis of anything Bearn said, but Henry did have a point about not negotiating under a threat. He nodded. "Yes, I see. If we take La Reole, and Castile makes no effort to redeem the promises of help Bearn has given those he has led astray, you will have ready proof of Alfonso's good intentions."

"His good intentions I already doubt," Henry snapped. "If he had good intentions, he would have refused Bearn's fealty. I think he will send help to La Reole and try to catch me between two fires."

But as he spoke, the drooping lid of his left eye fell a little lower, and Raymond was suddenly in doubt of the king's sincerity again. With each year, Henry grew more devious, more capable of hiding his thoughts. From believing the king, Raymond swung back to suspecting that the delegation in May had been better received than Henry admitted.

Alfonso's father had planned an invasion of the north coast of Africa, to cut the Moors off from their main base of strength. It was widely said that the young king intended to go forward with that plan. If so, he had no strength to waste in an attempt to help Gaston de Bearn take Gascony, particularly as it was most unlikely that the King of Navarre would give permission to march troops through Navarre.

The king was telling the truth, Raymond thought, insofar as he wished to negotiate the marriage of Eleanor and Edward under the best circ.u.mstances in his favor. And that was most reasonable. But he did not expect Castile to help the rebels, and he did want people to believe that that was a real danger. So, whether or not Aubery had been right about the fact that there were emissaries already in Castile or on their way there, he was certainly right that Henry intended to use the threat of a Castilian invasion to wring more men and money out of England.

Naturally, that did not annoy Raymond nearly as much as it annoyed Aubery, since whatever money came from England would reduce the charges on the loyal Gascon n.o.bles and cities. Nor did he regret spreading the rumor that a marriage between Edward and Eleanor was intended. It was no lie, and there would be some time before it reached England. Meanwhile, here in Gascony, it could only do good.

"Then, I think, we had better set about taking La Reole as quickly as we can," Raymond said.

Henry nodded and smiled at Raymond's statement, which appeared to accept the danger of an attack by Castile. Raymond knew very well that the king thought he had been fooled, but he cared less for that than for the fact that Henry intended to get the army away from the environs of Bordeaux, where they were sure to come into conflict with the townspeople all too soon. He did not mention that, since Henry next said that the military commanders were summoned at terce the next day to plan the advance on La Reole and discuss whether an a.s.sault would be possible.

Still, "quickly" by Henry's standards was measured by weeks rather than hours. It was late October before the army was moved and encamped around La Reole. In spite of the delay, Aubery was seldom in Blancheforte. He was not high enough in rank to come and go as he pleased, and he was fully occupied as Hereford's most trusted deputy in the overlord's duty as constable of the army. The longer the men were encamped near Bordeaux, the more offenses they managed to commit against the townspeople.

Prices were growing higher by the day, and many barons were n.i.g.g.ardly in supplying their contingents. Stealing from and a.s.saulting tradesmen over what they felt to be extortion were common, and even more common were drunkenness and abuse of decent women. The malefactors had to be identified and depositions taken. Some cases Hereford dismissed outright, experience permitting him to recognize exaggerated blame in the hope of profit. Some he was able to compound for apologies and small fines. A few were serious matters that ended in whippings and hangings.

Thus, although he knew he would miss the occasional night he was able to s.n.a.t.c.h with Fenice, Aubery was relieved when the army finally settled in around La Reole. In the company of familiar male companions, most of whom Aubery had not informed of his marriage, the talk was that of an armed camp-war, supplies, and loot.

By the third week in January, everything about the siege had palled, and everyone was bored. King Henry's supporters had long since decided that a.s.sault on the great fortress was impractical. Those siege machines for which timber was available had been built, and new supplies only trickled in slowly. Hereford had summoned Aubery to have a cup of wine together and idle away another cold, damp afternoon. Periodically, their talk was interrupted by the crash of a huge stone against La Reole's virtually impregnable stone wall. After a while by mutual consent they walked out to look at the result of the crashes. There was no greater effect now than when the machine had begun its work. Although they could not see the place, both knew that at another spot miners and sappers were at work tunneling under the wall.

"I have the men building another mangonel," Aubery said. "Then we can set them at an angle to each other so that all the stones strike on the one spot. Perhaps that will speed the work."

"There is no harm in trying," Hereford replied without much enthusiasm, "but I think it likely that the rebels will yield before we breach the walls, whatever method we use. I would say they have been of two minds since we arrived here, one hoping that Bearn and his Castilian allies will come to do their fighting for them and the other hoping the king will make promises fair enough for them to yield to him. The king has already parlayed with them once, and you can see that they hardly resist."