Lord Liar Part 49

Robert of Mortain, the head of the garrison, had made his submission and his soldiers had marched out and surrendered.

Even Bishop Odo had been captured and was now the king's prisoner. Tomorrow they would march on Rochester to quash the remainder of the rebellion.

Bonfires had been lit on the pebbly beach and the soldiers were feasting on roast oxen and fowls given them by a grateful King William Rufus. Ale was flowing freely. The camp followers, wearing their lightest kirtles because of the warm mid-June weather, were dancing for the men. Every now and then a soldier would pull one of them into the shadows of the large black boulders that lined the beach. She would emerge a few minutes later, her pocket heavier with the coins the celebrating man-at-arms had paid her. Yes, it would be a profitable night for the women who followed the army.

As she watched from one of the cliffs overlooking the bay, Maud's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed with concentration as she tried to identify Turold in the milling throng below.

It had not been an easy thing to find Turold. She had journeyed to faraway London town, only to learn that the army had already left. She had traveled on to Tonbridge, where the garrison had laughed at her and sent her on to Pevensey. Her journey had been made easier when she had atolen a clerk's donkey, an act for which she felt no guilt.

s it that she travel on the' a beast as the Vkgin had ridden? And now she had reached the bay and would soon be reunited with her husband.

Turold would be so glad to know his wife had finally found him. He would be overjoyed. His handsome face would break into a broad grin, and he would laugh triumphantly and run across the beach to scoop her into his embrace.

Of course, he would be sorry to learn that she had lost the babe she had been carrying, but they would find someplace soft and private--not just a spot behind the rocks for a quick drunken coupling--and he would give her a new babe. And he would love and protect her forever after. Maud gave a triumphant cackle of laughter as she thought she spotted Turold at last. A man with her lover's stocky build was sitting by one of the bonfires, gnawing on a hunk of roasted meat and watching the antics of a gyrating harlot.

Maud frowned. Well, it did him no harm to look, and as soon as she could descend to the beach and make herself known, he would not give the wh.o.r.e a second glance.

"Ah, my ravis.h.i.+ng Desiderata, come sit in my lap," invited Tarold, waving a half-eaten leg of capon at his leman.

She had been doing what she claimed was a Moorish dance for him and the other men-at-arms lounging nearby, and she was flushed rosy from the fire and her exertions. The loose neckline of her gown revealed half of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and as she had gyrated, the other half had threatened to bob into view. "Oh ho!

I know why you want me to sit on your lap, my fine c.o.c.kerel! " cr6wed Desiderata.

"You have something for me that has naught to do with that capon leg you're offering as bait!"

"Aye, that I do, my lover. You bring out the best of me, I do swear."

The other men guffawed, all but that dan reed G.o.dric, who had been so gloomy of late. Well, Tarold thought, he could ignore that sobersides. Tonight was a night for feasting and getting drunk and swiving anything female in reach, and Desiderata was definitely in reach. He thrust out his hand and grabbed one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and tweaked the nipple. With a squeal, Desiderata dropped into his lap and began to kiss him, accompanied by the cheers of his ale-fogged companions.

"Turold, would you like to continue our celebration somewhere more private?

In our usual try sting place?"

Desiderata had been guzzling ale with the rest, but she still considered herself a cut above the average camp follower and was not about to give herself to Tarold in front of all his comrades. She was relieved when her lover, his responses slowed by drink, nodded at last. Lilce as not he'd fall asleep before he satisfied her, but that was all right. Earlier this evening he'd asked her to wed him, so she already had what she really wanted. And soon they'd obtain an audience with the king, she was sure of it.

"Follow me in a few minutes, all right, love? I'll be ready for you

she cooed, and headed up the track that led above the beach toward the grove of yews where they usually coupled.

Maud had witnessed the whole thing from a few yards away but had been unnoticed in the strolling crowd of soldiers and camp followers. Now she followed Desiderata, and when the harlot stopped in the grove and began to arrange a blanitet under one of the trees, she stepped out of the concealing darkness.

"Who do you think you are, s.l.u.t, to be stealing my husband?" she screeched, coming forward.

Desiderata stared at the wild-eyed harridan approaching her, hands clenched into claws, her hair standing out at the never a comb "Who are you?" she retorted coolly, disliking the shattering of her jubilant mood. The woman must be some unfortunate lunatic disturbed by the noise. Perhaps if she gave her a penny or two she'd go away before Turold came.

"I'm Maud, Turold's wife, you trollop!" the crazed woman screamed, coming nearer.

"There must be some mistake," retorted Desiderata, truly annoyed now.

"My man is no one's husband. He's soon to become mine, however."

"Turold of Swanlea is mine. He gave me a babe, only I lost it, and now I want another."

Deaiderata stared at her. Well, perhaps this was one of Turold's former wenches. She could not judge him too harshly, after all--he was hardly her first man, either. She hoped he would be here in a moment and spare her having to deal with this pitiful wretch any longer.

"Well, perhaps he favored you once, but no more. He is mine. He wouldn't even look at the likes of you, you poor mad creature. Here's a penny. Get you gone, and buy yourself some food. Or go back down to the beach and they'll likely give you some ale. Yes, and give you another babe, too, if you offer yourself to enough of them." Too late, Desiderata realized the danger of being arrogant while she was alone with this crazed woman. The madwoman had just pulled a wicked-looking dagger from under her cloak.

Desiderata looked wildly about her for a loose branch, anything that could be used as a weapon. She had left her eating dagger with Turold so that it wouldn't jab her while she was dancing.

Desiderata screamed as the madwoman charged.

He heard her calling his name while he was still climbing the that led from the her voice was choked off and there was a horrible silence, followed by a bone-chilling, triumphant cackle. Turold began to run.

By the time he reached the grove, only seconds later, it was too late. A straggly-haired creature dressed in a tattered kirtle was dancing around Desiderata's corpse, holding aloft a bloodstained dagger and laughing dementedly.

"She said ye were hers, Turold! She said ye'd make no more babes on me but marry her and give them to her! She was wrong, Turold, wasn't she? I had to show her she was wrongl" she screeched.

"Maud?" he questioned, the fumes of the ale clearing from his brain as he stared, first at the capering madwoman, then at the body of his leman, whose throat had been slashed nearly from ear to ear. The blood still coursed from the wound, but Desiderata was motionless, her glazed eyes staring.

How could Maud be here? It was some fantastic nightmare. How could she have found him and killed his woman?

"I'll slay you, by G.o.d? he roared, and launched himself at the apparition he had once known as Maud. But insanity had robbed Maud of her reason, it had conferred speed and cleverness, and she easily eluded him. Her mad cackle taunted him as he lost her in the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"If he's a prisoner, I'm the Pope," Urse commented as the royal army approached on a cloudy June afternoon.

Behind the jutting nasal of his helm, Ranulf peered through narrowed eyes at the bishop, arrayed in his gorgeous episcopal robes. Mounted on a white mule, Odo rode at the head of the troops beside the king, almost as if he and his nephew Rufus were co generals rather than prisoner and captor.

"If there are shackles, they're invisible ones," Ranulf agreed, watching as Bishop Odo made some remark to the king, then threw back his head and laughed. "Aye. They look on the best of terms, do they not?" Urse said, then spat on the ground, disgusted.

"That Odo, he's a sly one.

Rufus would do well to forget he's his uncle, for he can't be trusted. "

Ranulf nodded. While he waiterl for the king to come nearer to where he and FitzHaimo stood at the head of their smaller force, he studied the ranks of soldiers behind the king.

Somewhere among the hundreds of Englishmen in their conical iron helmets and boiled-leather jerkins with sewn-on metal links marched Aldyth's former betrothed and her brother G.o.dtic.

He hoped time--and Aldyth's disappearance--had mellowed G.o.dric's angry heart.

Aldyth did not mention him, but Ranulf knew she would grieve if her relations.h.i.+p with her brother was not eventually mended.

He clenched his jaw at the thought of encountering Turold, however.

Time and his love for Aldyth, which seemed to double every day, had not diminished his seething rage at the brute who had thought to force Aldyth to his will.

Aldyth had promised to keep to their tent as much as possible and to wear her hood and keep her head down whenever she had to venture forth. But it was June and increasingly hot, even with the cooling breezes off the Mealway.

Would she be able to keep her promise until he had the chance to confront Turold?

G.o.d's toenails, Ranulf thought, he should have used a husband's prerogative and ordered Aldyth to remain at the little house in nearby Strood that they had rented for their wedding night. Aldyth had claimed she would not obey such a command, but he thought she was bluffing. Still, he had been reluctant to insist for two reasons. For one thing, he was loath to begin their marriage by acting the tyrannical husband. For another, he could not banish the higgling fear as to what would happen to Aldyth if some mischance befell him. How would she learn his fate? And what could happen to a woman alone if the rebels bottled up in Rochester broke out and fled south in the direction of Strood?