Greatest Knight: The Unsung Story of the Queen's Champion by Elizabeth Chadwick

Author:Elizabeth Chadwick [Chadwick, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 1402225180
Amazon: B003M69P96
Publisher: Sourcebooks Landmark
Published: 2006-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

Hamstead Marshal, Berkshire, July 1183

“Jerusalem?” John Marshal’s mouth turned down at the corners. “That is no small undertaking.”

“I have debts to God that cannot be paid any other way,” William replied. They were sitting outside in the hot summer evening, resting their elbows on a trestle table and drinking wine. Both men had removed their hose and wore only their braies and light summer tunics. “I am doing this for my own soul as well as that of the Young King. I need to find peace; I need to do penance and be cleansed.” He glanced towards his nephew, who was playing chase with the steward’s lad. Young John, now known by his fond name of Jack, was nine years old and sturdy of limb with grey eyes and bright brown hair. Alais had borne a daughter four months ago and little Sybilla was sleeping in a rush basket on the trestle, her face rosy in slumber.

“It’s a dangerous way to go about it,” John said. “The grass will grow long in your absence. King Henry may well not vouchsafe you a place in his retinue if and when you return.”

“That is up to Henry,” William replied. “He is stabling my horses while I am gone and he has given me funds to undertake the task. As matters stand now, he wants me back. Would you have me renege on my vow?”

John gave an impatient shake of his head. “Of course not, but…”

“My body will be no more imperilled than it has been over these last months warring for my lord, and my soul even less so.”

“Yes, we heard about what happened at Rocamadour,” John said disapprovingly.

William rubbed his palms over his face. “I have my own atonement to make to God for the part I played in stripping the shrine of Saint Amadour. I stood back and let him do it. I let his mercenaries strip the gold from the altar and tear the sword of Roland out of the wall.” He shivered. Even now the memory filled him with fear and self-loathing. “At least the sword has been restored to the shrine, even if the other treasures have been scattered far and wide.” William looked morosely into his wine.

There was a long silence. John tilted his goblet to his lips and swallowed. Then he wiped his mouth and looked at William. “By all accounts the Young King’s funeral was interesting. Twice buried eh?”

A look of distaste crossed William’s face. “You heard about that too?” He shook his head. “We brought the cortège to Le Mans and kept vigil overnight at the church of Saint Julian, but when we tried to leave at dawn, the town worthies and the priests refused to allow us on our way. They insisted on burying my lord in their church and there was nothing we could do short of drawing our swords.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of weary recollection. “The people of Rouen were expecting my lord

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