The Book of Dreams(71)

My young guide led me on and up a wooden staircase that brought us into an upper room furnished for comfortable living. There were rugs on the floor, and wall hangings embroidered with scenes from the chase and the classical tales. To my surprise I noticed that one of the wall hangings depicted the siege of Troy. I recognized the figures of Troilus and Achilles, whose story I had told in the presence of Carolus at the banquet where I was poisoned. Ironwork braziers kept out the chill and damp, and there was a large and comfortable-looking bed with a mattress, as well as the usual stools and chairs. Here the windows were glazed and larger than on the ground floor, allowing in extra daylight. Nevertheless racks of expensive wax candles, some of them scented, were already burning. I found myself wondering how Hroudland could afford such luxury.

A manservant took me in charge and, after a condescending appraisal of what I was wearing, drew back a curtain to an alcove. Expensive clothes hung on pegs. There were fine shirts of silk and linen, jackets and leggings, fur-trimmed cloaks, tunics with silver and gold thread woven into the fabric, a selection of fashionable hats and bonnets. Lower down, shelves displayed an array of footwear; boots, slippers and shoes of all colours and styles. I was told that I could select whatever clothes I wanted, and that hot water would be brought up from the kitchens so I could wash and change.

*

The count himself arrived two hours later. I heard his footsteps thudding on the wooden stair and a moment later he came bounding into the room, his face flecked with mud and his eyes alive with energy.

‘Patch, Patch! It’s been far too long!’ he exclaimed, and I received another exuberant bear hug. Then he held me at arm’s length and gazed into my face. ‘You’re tanned and look well. Hispania must have suited you.’

‘Being Warden of the March has suited you. Your great hall is magnificent,’ I complimented him.

He pulled a face.

‘It’s to make up for this miserable climate and its equally miserable people. You have no idea what it is like to live among such sullen, dour blockheads. They don’t know the meaning of what it is to enjoy oneself. We have to create our own amusements.’ He brightened. ‘But tonight there’ll be good food and conversation and my steward will provide some decent wine. Also, I’ve arranged a special entertainment for you.’

His words tumbled out at such a pace and with so much fervour that I examined my friend more closely. I noticed the slight bags under his eyes and the broken veins on his face. He seemed overwrought and anxious. It was not how I remembered him. I wondered if Hroudland had been living a little too lavishly.

‘I abandoned my mission to Hispania because I have to warn you of a plot against you,’ I began.

But the count had already turned away, almost as though he was unable to keep still. He strode across to the bed and pulled off his shirt. His body was still as slim and athletic as before, the muscles sculpted under the pale skin. If my friend had been indulging in too much fine living, it had not affected his physique. The manservant reappeared with a basin of water, which he placed on a stand, and Hroudland began to wash his face and arms.

‘Ganelon is plotting against you,’ I said loudly, trying to get his full attention.

‘That’s nothing new,’ answered the count dismissively. He did not bother to raise his face from the bowl.

‘This time he may succeed,’ I insisted. ‘He wants to have you disgraced as a traitor.’ I failed to suppress the note of irritation in my voice but I was frustrated that my friend should be taking my warning so casually after I had made so great an effort to reach him.

‘Tell me about it,’ said the count, straightening up. He began towelling his head and shoulders.

Point by point, I explained how Ganelon had obtained Husayn’s signed promise to pay me five hundred dinars so he could use it as false proof of Hroudland’s treachery.

When I had finished, the count threw back his head and laughed scornfully.

‘Is that the best that Ganelon can do? It won’t get him very far,’ he scoffed.

I thought I detected a note of hysteria in my friend’s response and I pressed on.

‘You must contact the king. Tell him what is happening. Warn him against Ganelon.’

Hroudland came across to me and punched me lightly on the arm.

‘Patch, my friend, I’ll do better than that. I’ll fight so well in Hispania that Carolus will have no doubt of my loyalty.’

‘What do you mean? Is there to be a war in Hispania?’

Again Hroudland laughed.

‘Of course!’

‘But I was sent with Ganelon and Gerin to investigate whether or not the Saracens’ request for military help was genuine.’