The Love Knot

Chapter 34

Bristol,

April 1153

Louis sat in a corner of The Mermaid nursing his wine and watching the clientele. For the most part they were sailors, or men with the scarred, weather-beaten countenances of soldiers. Men like himself, except for the fickle roll of fortune's dice.

Louis was still handsome. The Holy Land had whittled the boyishness from his smile and salted his hair with grey, but it had enhanced rather than diminished his looks. Playful had become dangerous and, as always, he attracted women like a magnetic stone attracted iron.

He looked down at his hands, at the clipped nails and tanned brown fingers. These days he examined them often to reassure himself that there was nothing to see, that no one but himself knew of the legacy he had brought home from the Holy Land, although he had come to the conclusion that there was nothing in the least holy about it. To the contrary, it was the domain of the Devil.

His descent into hell had been the bequeathing of the woman he had met by the pool of Siloam. He had taken her body, her silk robe clinging, diaphanous with the sweat of lust. He had dwelt in her house, luxuriated in every pleasure and vice imaginable; gorged himself upon the wealth she earned from other men. She was a courtesan, the midnight consort of the wealthy officials and prelates who served the King of Jerusalem. She had almond-shaped dark eyes outlined in kohl, honey-golden skin and a lithe, sinuous body that could wrap and tighten around a man like a snake. Now she was nothing but dust and bones. Her name was

Jasmine. She had given him everything — including his own slow death.

He clenched his hands into fists, but that made his knuckle bones gleam beneath the skin, reminding him all too potently of his fate. He snatched his cup and gulped down the wine. As a matter of habit he had ordered the best that The Mermaid had to offer, but he would not have noticed had it been vinegar.

The door swung open and Ewan thrust into the crowded alehouse, ushering before him a nondescript man of middle years with sandy hair and a sparse yellow beard.

'About time, Louis hissed beneath his breath, and signalled one of the serving maids to bring another jug of wine.

Ewan brought the man to Louis's trestle and was dismissed by a flick of the lean brown fingers. 'You are Adam the apothecary?

The maid set a fresh jug on the trestle and a second drinking cup. Louis paid her with a glance and a smile from habit.

'Aye, the man nodded cautiously. 'What's your business with me?

'A remedy. Louis poured the rich red wine and pushed the new cup across to his guest. 'I have heard that you are skilled in making medicines.

'That I am. Adam took a drink from his cup and pinched his upper lip to remove drops from his moustache. His light blue eyes were wary. 'A remedy for what?

'I need to have your oath of secrecy first.

Adam blinked several times rapidly. 'That will add to the cost of my services.

'I can pay. Louis fished in his pouch. Whereas before he had brought out a common silver halfpenny for the girl now, under cover of his cupped palm so that only the apothecary should see, he displayed a bezant of solid gold.

The lids fluttered like a butterfly beating at a window.

'One of these now, one when you've made the potion.

Adam reached out. Louis snatched his hand away and closed his fist over the gold. 'But only if you swear to hold your tongue.

'I would be mad not to swear, Adam said with a breathless laugh.

'Aye, you would, because the alternative to you holding your tongue is me cutting it out on the edge of my sword. Louis tapped his hilt for emphasis.

The apothecary paled and swallowed, but greed overcame caution. 'I swear, he said, and held out his hand.

Louis palmed him the coin, a fierce look in his dark eyes. 'Then you are committed, he said, and took another long drink of his wine as if it was red lifeblood. Then he banged the cup down on the trestle. 'It's not for me, you understand, I'm acting on behalf of a friend.

'Of course. Adam inclined his head and stroked his pouch where the gold now rested.

Still reluctant at giving his fate into another's hand, Louis produced a scrap of vellum from his pouch. 'These are the ingredients, he said with a frown. He had no idea what they were for he could neither read nor write. He had purchased the remedy from a fellow traveller on the ship home, who had assured him that the mixture worked on a whole range of diseases.

'As a remedy for what?

'Scrofula. Louis forced himself not to rub his wrist where there was a patch of lichen-like white skin, frilled with red at its edges. Scrofula was acceptable. Leprosy was not. Leprosy would make him an outcast, dependent on charity for his existence. It would eat away his good looks and there would be no one but other lepers to see. When they rolled him unceremoniously in his grave, perhaps many suffering years from now, it would not be as Louis le Loup, leader of men, or Louis le Colps, lover of women. It would not be as Louis de Grosmont, confidant of kings, or even Lewis of Chepstow, grandson of a groom. It would be as Louis the Leper, despised outcast.

'Ah, scrofula, the apothecary repeated, with an exaggerated nod to show that he was playing along but not in the least fooled. He scanned the list of ingredients, murmuring to himself and nodding. 'Pennywort, sorrel, St John's wort, grey lichen… yes, I have all those. His voice fell to a mumble as he took in the other ingredients, nodding at each one. But then suddenly he stopped and a look of utter revulsion crossed his face.

'This I do not have and I cannot obtain it for you, he said.

'Why not, what is it? Louis leaned forward, panic tightening in his chest.

'The fat from a stillborn infant, rendered down and used to carry the rest of the ingredients.

Louis felt a brief queasiness in his gut, but a gulp of wine and his desperate need quelled his own sensibilities. 'And if I obtain it for you?

The apothecary swallowed and shook his head. 'It is against all Christian law. If either of us was discovered, we would be hanged from the nearest gibbet.

'We won't be discovered. You need have no fear. I will get the ingredient — all you will have to do is mix it with the others. The risk will be all mine, and you will be handsomely paid.

'I… I do not know.

'Then give me back the gold and I will find someone else who is willing.

Adam touched his pouch and frowned and twitched. But he could not bring his hand to reach inside and throw the money back. 'It is wrong, he said.

'Why? Louis shrugged. 'The infant doesn't need its fat if it is dead.

'Where are you going to find a midwife willing to risk herself too?

'God in heaven, man, have you seen it out there? Louis threw his arm wide. 'Prince Henry's army, Gloucester's army, all their allies. Where there are fighting men there are whores, and where there are whores there are midwives. I'll find one. He held out his hand. 'Now, my gold returned, or your final agreement.

The apothecary gnawed his lower lip and finally clasped Louis's hand for the briefest of moments. 'Agreed, he said stiffly. 'Bring me the ingredient when you have it. Looking sick, he rose to his feet, surreptitiously wiping his palm on his thigh.

When he had gone, Ewan came and sat at the trestle to finish the jug of wine with his master. Louis had told him nothing about his ailment and Ewan had never sought to probe, on the principle that thinking beyond orders caused nothing but worry and moral dilemmas.

'Where do we go after this? he asked. 'Are you still planning to hire out with Prince Henry?

Louis raised the cup to his lips, drank and swallowed. 'Tomorrow, he said. 'I'll not get further than a hurling in the dust if I go to recruit smelling of wine. The first impression is the one that lingers. Go, do what you want with the rest of the day.

Ewan grinned wolfishly. 'If it's all the same, I'll stay here.

'As you please. Louis tossed a silver penny on the table and, leaving The Mermaid, went out to wander Bristol's bustling heart, a place in which he had not set foot since he was a young garrison soldier of one-and-twenty, bringing his bride to buy fripperies and small items for their home.

Jesu, it was so long ago. A lifetime. A lifetime of wandering and squandering. What would it have been like if he could only have set his will to the grindstone at Wickham? Would it have rewarded him with satisfaction and even greater honours, or would he have grown to hate it? The latter, he thought. Wealth and status he enjoyed, but not the responsibilities which came with them. He had spent most of his life cultivating the former and shedding the latter.

He made his way to the wharves to watch the vessels loading and unloading their cargoes — wines from Gascony and Burgundy, bundles of Irish flax and five Irish mares — and trading barges from upriver with cargoes of iron from the forges in the forest. He inhaled the sharp, salt air and savoured the textures of life, an overwhelming anger growing within him.

He was a part of the great flow and he had no intention of being stranded above the tideline and left to rot by the disease consuming him.

'Do you think ill of me? Geoffrey FitzMar looked sidelong at Catrin.

'Why should I? They were sitting on a bench facing the herb garden that lay at the side of the dwelling. Philip of Gloucester had given Geoffrey the house to live in and an income of rents from three others in recognition of his services.

It was pleasant and sunny, sheltered from the wind. Eight children ranging in age from twelve to three years old, her own among them, romped in the orchard at the foot of the garth. With them was a young woman, neatly dressed, plain of feature, but with a lovely smile brightening her face as she threw a ball for one of the girls to catch. Her laugh rang out, clear and happy.

'It is not so long since Edon died. Perhaps you think that I do not respect her memory by marrying again so soon.

Catrin watched her small sons twinkle in and out of the trees. 'It is three years, she murmured. 'What you do is your own business. And no, I think that you honour her memory by doing as you have.

'Truly? He looked at her anxiously.

'Truly. She gave his hand a squeeze and smiled. Most men would not care what others thought. Most men had hides so tough that it took a spear to pierce them, but not Geoffrey. It was probably the reason why he and Oliver were friends. There were times when each irritated the other beyond bearing, but there were bonds of similarity too. 'Look at all the years that Oliver wasted in recrimination and mourning. Better to grieve and then to move on.

He nodded. 'I try, but I still do grieve for Edon, you know, even though I have Miriel — and it hurts.

'I miss her too, Catrin murmured. 'She was always part of my return to Bristol, and now she's not here.

'It was my fault that she died, Geoffrey said bleakly.

'It was the will of God.

His smile was grim. 'I tried telling myself that, but it led me down the path to heresy. I asked a priest why it was God's will, and he said that it was ours not to reason why. So are we not to think for ourselves but to follow in blind faith? He shook his head. 'It's easier to blame myself for lust than God for failing.

'Geoffrey… She touched his arm, unsure what to say. 'I can live with it, he said. 'When it becomes too dark for me to bear alone, Miriel is there, and I have my children.

Catrin bit her lip. 'And supposing Miriel quickens with child. How long have you been wed?

'A six-month, he replied. 'She looks young, does she not, but she's eight-and-twenty. Since the age of fifteen she has been widowed once and cast aside once.

'Cast aside? Catrin regarded Geoffrey's new wife with a spark of sympathy having herself been abandoned twice by the same man. 'Whatever for?

'Being barren, Geoffrey said expressionlessly. 'Her first, widowed, marriage lasted five years without children and her second match bore no fruit either. Barren soil rather than barren seed. Whatever I sow cannot grow and destroy the place where it was planted.

Catrin felt both sorry for him and relieved. 'I wish you both well, she murmured. 'With all my heart I do.

The sunset was a striking silver-streaked pink, overlaid by streamers of charcoal and rust. Oliver paused in his examination of a pack horse to watch it and thought about stopping to eat. Henry was preparing to ride on to Gloucester to hold his Easter court. There was so much to do and so little time to accomplish it all.

'Fine evening, greeted Humfrey de Glanville, pausing on his way across the bailey. He was one of Henry's recruiting masters, and Oliver knew and liked him well. They had frequently worked together, their respective positions in Henry's household making them allies and fellow sufferers.

Oliver nodded agreement and for a moment the two men watched the sunset flame and darken over the estuary. Oliver told his companion that he was inspecting the pack ponies before he sent them off to an outlying manor to collect supplies.

'It's like feeding a bottomless pit, he said with a grimace. The weather creases at Humfrey's eye corners deepened. 'Aye, I know what you mean.

'Hire any new men worth their salt today? Oliver asked.

Having recruited in the past, he knew how difficult the task was. The dross came anyway, lured by the promise of plunder and pay. Finding steady soldiers of good calibre, who would not break at the first testing, was somewhat more difficult.

Humfrey shrugged and rubbed his grey-salted beard. 'Most were of the usual sort. Welsh youngsters in search of adventure and scarce old enough to grow a beard between them. Men with mouths to feed and no other way of doing it. Others who think that Prince Henry's footsteps are printed in gold.

Oliver grunted in sympathy.

'There were a couple who intrigued me though. Humfrey scratched his nose. 'Adventurers I'd say, after plunder and prestige, but they'd got a sharper edge than the others. A knight and his servant.

'Oh?

'Claimed to be returned crusaders and it's likely true. The knight had a red cross sewn on his cloak and they were both as brown as nuts.

Oliver raised his brows with interest. 'Did they say for whom they fought before their crusade?

Humfrey grinned and shook his head. 'No, they avoided that one with more agility than a pair of maypole dancers. I suspect that they've always sold their swords where it has been to their best advantage. No shame in that I know, but I am not entirely sure that they will honour their part of the bargain with loyalty. It could be that if it comes to a fight, they will break as easily as a couple of raw Welsh lads.

'But you hired them anyway?

'Yes, I hired them, but if you asked me why, I could not tell you. A puzzled, slightly irritated, look crossed Humfrey's face. 'This is the first time in my life that I've been persuaded to ignore my doubts by a silver tongue., Louis le Pelerin will bear watching.

Oliver took his eyes off the sunset. 'Louis le Pelerin? he repeated, feeling the familiar wrench in his gut as he heard the first name.

'That was what he said. Humfrey looked at him curiously. 'Why, do you know him?

Oliver shook his head. 'I hope not. Describe him to me — and his companion too.

'Not above average height, lean and wiry, Humfrey said in the manner of someone accustomed to summing up the points of men and horses both. 'Black hair, black eyes, scar on the cheekbone. Dresses like an earl — far better garments than either you or I possess. No common soldier could afford to wear a tunic of dark blue wool beneath his armour.

Oliver began to feel sick. He clenched his fists. 'And the other one? Let me guess. Is he a red-haired Welshman called Ewan?

Humfrey's eyes widened. 'You know them?

Oliver swallowed jerkily. 'Yes, I know them. Christ Jesu, Humfrey, do not take them into the Prince's employ. Louis le Pelerin as he calls himself is worth only six feet of fresh soil to bury his perfidious corpse.

Humfrey continued to stare.

Oliver cleared his throat and spat. 'His true name is Lewis of Chepstow, and if he comes within range of my blade, I will kill him. His voice quivered with rage, but beneath that rage was a terrible fear made all the more potent for the length of time it had been brewing. At some dark, unconscious level of his mind, he had always known that Louis would return and try to claim what was his by law even though he had no right.

'What has he done?

Oliver shut his eyes and forced control upon himself. When he opened them on Humfrey, they were expressionless storm-grey. 'It is a personal matter, he said woodenly. 'Of honour and common decency. Suffice to say that he is faithless. You would do better to put your trust in quicksand.

Humfrey stirred his toe in the dust and sucked his teeth. 'Very well, I will dismiss him on the morrow, and the Welshman too, but I would still like to know your reason. It is not enough to say that he is faithless when we are so short of men.

Oliver drew a deep breath. 'He was one of Stephen's mercenaries at the time of the battle of Winchester.

'So much he told me, Humfrey nodded. 'He said that he had grown sick of the war and joined the crusade instead because it had more point.

'He joined the crusade, Oliver bit out, 'because Stephen had entrusted him with a keep that he did not have the backbone to hold. He abandoned it under siege — rode out and left his wife and baby daughter to face the consequences. When he left he told them he was going for aid, but he had no intention of returning.

Humfrey eyed him keenly. 'You know a great deal of the matter.

'That is because his wife and daughter are now with me.

Humfrey's jaw dropped. 'Catrin and Rosamund. I thought that they belonged to y—

'Everyone thinks that, Oliver cut across him savagely. 'Even those who know the truth have almost forgotten. They think us husband and wife, as close as this! He raised two crossed fingers before Humfrey's startled eyes. 'If you only knew the heartache and suffering he has caused. So help me God, I will run a sword through his heart rather than march at his side.

'All right, I have said I will dismiss him. Calm yourself. Humfrey held up a placatory hand. 'Come, we'll go to the hall and eat.

Oliver breathed out hard and scooped his hands through his hair. He was no longer ravenous. All he felt was sick and angry and afraid. 'No, I have to go home to Catrin and Rosamund.

Humfrey nodded reluctantly. 'Do you want me to come with you?

'No, Oliver said tersely, then, with an effort, forced himself to be civil. 'My thanks, Humfrey, but you attend to your concerns and I will attend to mine.

'Don't do anything rash, the knight warned with troubled eyes. 'A sword through this man's heart will be as much your death as his.

'You think so? Oliver raised his brows. 'He put a sword through mine ten years ago. Wouldn't you say that the reckoning is long overdue?

'Oliver

'But if I seek him out and kill him, his dishonour will become mine. His mouth was bitter. 'Either way, I pay the price.