“You begin to sound more the fool than your Crooky.” Kassia sighed. “You must face up to things, Dienwald. You must go home to your wife and your son. Perhaps, if you are very careful, you could still raid on your western borders. Aye, I think my lord would wish to accompany you. He chafes for adventure now that there is naught but boring peace.”
“She’s right, Dienwald. There would be no reason for the king to find out. You could be most discreet in your looting and raiding. You would simply have to select your quarry wisely. Aye, Kassia speaks true. I should like a bit of sport myself, on occasion.”
Dienwald brightened. “Philippa likes adventure as well,” he said slowly. “I think she would much enjoy raiding.”
“It is certainly something for the two of you to speak together about,” Kassia said, lowering her head so Dienwald wouldn’t see the smile on her lips.
Roland de Tournay, much to both Graelam’s and his wife’s appalled surprise, said suddenly, “Nay, I don’t agree with Graelam. I agree with you, Dienwald. I think you should travel to Canterbury and explain to the archbishop what happened to you. I think he would annul his marriage. After all, the wench wasn’t honest about her heritage. She’s a bastard when all’s said and done. What man would wish to be wedded to a bastard? Aye, rid yourself of her, Dienwald. It matters not if she carries your babe in her belly. Let the king, her father, see to it. You will be happy again and your keep will resume its normal workings. You can return to your mistresses with a free heart and without guilt.”
To Graelam’s and Kassia’s further surprise, Dienwald bounded to his feet and stared at Roland as though he’d suddenly become a toad that had just hopped onto the trestle table and into the pigeon pie.
“Shut your foul mouth, Roland! Philippa knew not that she was a bastard! None of it was her fault, none of it her doing. She is honest and pure and sweet and . . .” He broke off, saw that he’d been trapped in a cage of his own creation, and turned red all the way to his hairline.
“You damnable whoreson, I hope you rot!” he bellowed as he strode with churning step from Wolffeton’s great hall, leaving its three remaining occupants to explode with laughter.
22
St. Erth Castle
Philippa stood in the inner bailey, her hands on her hips, facing Dienwald’s master-of-arms. “I care not what you say, Eldwin. I won’t remain here for another day, nay, not even another hour! Don’t you understand? Your master is at Wolffeton—he must be there—licking his imagined wounds and whining to Graelam and his perfect little Kassia about what his treacherous wife has done to him.”
“And you wish to go to Wolffeton, mistress? If the master is there, you want to berate him in front of Lord Graelam? Rebuke him in front of the men? Mistress, he is your lord and master and your husband. You mustn’t do anything that would reflect badly on him. Above all, surely you wouldn’t wish to leave St. Erth! Why, ’tis your duty to remain here until the master decides what he will do and—”
Philippa was at the end of her tether. Crooky, who stood beside her, looked knowingly at Eldwin and said, “You are naught but a stringy bit of offal, sirrah! Don’t pretend to rise above what you are to tell her what she must and mustn’t do. She is a princess, Eldwin, so bite your churl’s tongue! A princess does what she wishes to do, and if she wishes to fetch the master, well then, all of us will go with her and fetch the master. And the master will be well-fetched, and that’s an end to it!”
“Aye, I will go as well,” said Edmund, “for he is my father.”
“And I!”
“And I!”
Eldwin, routed, looked about at the two score of St. Erth people, who had obviously sided with the mistress. Old Agnes was grinning her toothless grin and flapping her skinny arms at him as if he were a fox in her henhouse. He gave over, but not completely. “But, mistress, all of us can’t leave the castle! Old Agnes, you must stay and see to the weaving and sewing! Gorkel, you must keep the villeins at their tasks and see to the keep’s safety.”
“Aye, and what will ye do, Eldwin of the mighty arm?” Old Agnes said.
“I go with the mistress,” Eldwin said, rose to his full height, and stared down at Old Agnes, who promptly moved back a few steps.
Philippa grinned, and Eldwin, pleased that he’d made her smile, and equally pleased that Old Agnes had retreated a bit, felt his chest expand. Perhaps they should fetch the master. Perhaps it was the best thing to do. Wasn’t there more to his duty than to remain at St. Erth and command and protect the keep?
“Aye, mistress, it will be as our brave Eldwin says,” Old Agnes shouted. “I’ll keep all these rattling tongues at their tasks! I just hope Prink—the faithless cretin—gives me some difficulties. If Mordrid doesn’t smack him down, then I’ll have Gorkel flail off his wormy hide.”
“Aye,” said Gorkel the Hideous, “I’ll keep everything and everyone in his place. You aren’t to fret yourself, mistress. No one will fall into lazy stupor.”
It was too much. Philippa looked from one beloved face to another and felt her smile crack. The past three days had been beyond wretched, and all of them had tried so diligently to make her feel better about her husband’s defection. She swallowed her tears, and
found herself nodding at Crooky with approval even as he cleared his throat and looked fit to burst with song.
We go to fetch the master
We go to bring him home.
We’ll not take a nay from him
Unless he’s torn limb from limb.
Crooky stopped, clapping his hands over his mouth, aghast at the shocking words that had come pouring forth. Philippa stared at him. Everyone stared at him. Then Philippa giggled; several nervous giggles followed. Finally Philippa sobered and turned to Eldwin. “Pick fifteen men and arm them well. We ride to Wolffeton within the hour. As for the rest of you, prepare the keep for your master’s return. We will feast as we did the day of our wedding!”
Near St. Erth