Warlord(89)

‘The what?’ said Roland. Thomas and Hanno were looking puzzled, too. And I realized that I had not yet had the chance to explain poor Master Fulk’s idea to them.

I took a deep breath. ‘Never mind about that for the moment,’ I said. ‘How did you get me out of there?’

‘When we saw where they had taken you, we went first of all to the episcopal palace to enlist Brother Michel’s help,’ said Thomas. ‘But he was not there – the servants said that he had been suddenly called away that morning to the Abbey of St Victor to attend Bishop de Sully.’

‘So then they came to see me,’ said Roland cheerfully. ‘The Seigneur called on the Provost of Paris – they are old friends, of course – they had a quiet chat, a little silver changed hands, and the Provost dispatched me with a docket for your release. Quite simple really.’

‘I am most grateful to you … Cousin,’ I said.

And I was. Roland and his father had pulled me out of that stinking hell of a gaol; they had undoubtedly saved my life – and for that I would be for ever in their debt.

We arrived soon enough at the Seigneur’s big house, and I had no sooner washed myself thoroughly again, and finished dressing myself in Roland’s spare clothes, when the Lady d’Alle came in. We were in Roland’s small chamber at the top of the building, and I had been telling an admiring audience of Hanno, Thomas and Roland how I had defeated Guillaume with my bare fists, when the lady of the house entered. ‘Are you well, Alan?’ she said, full of concern. She was even lovelier than I had remembered.

I told her I was unharmed – and did not bother to mention that I feared I had broken the third finger on my right hand, which Hanno had strapped tightly to the little one beside it.

‘Such an awful place; such awful people – it is a miracle that you survived it.’

‘It might appear so, my lady,’ I said. ‘But it was in truth a miracle wrought by your family.’

There was a slight pause, and the lady said: ‘The Seigneur has asked me to tell you that he would very much like to speak with you downstairs when you are fully restored to your comforts.’

‘I will be down directly,’ I said. ‘But first I would like to have a word with you in private, if I may be so bold.’

When Hanno, Thomas and Roland had left the room, I said: ‘My lady, I owe you an apology. When you told me about your, um, friendship with my father, I confess I was angry with you. But I now see that I was wrong: love is a strange madness, sometimes a curse, sometimes a blessing, but it is not ours to command. I also believe that it is an affliction that comes from God and His son Jesus Christ, and so must be honoured even when it seems destructive.’

‘Do you forgive me, then?’

‘With all my heart,’ I said, and she stepped forward and took my hands in hers.



I could see that her eyes were wet, but she smiled at me and said: ‘Then all is well.’

The Seigneur greeted me gruffly, self-consciously in the downstairs chamber and gave me a cup of wine and began reciting a little speech that he had obviously spent some time preparing.

‘I think you are an honourable man, Sir Alan,’ he began, staring hard at the floor between us. ‘And doubtless a brave and puissant knight. And I do not believe that you seek anything from my family except that which you demanded at our last meeting. I apologize for my rudeness – I was … in a bad humour, and suspicious of your intentions, but by your conduct then and since, I am satisfied that you mean me and the members of my family no harm. Therefore I must say this …’ He cleared his throat, and lifted his gaze to my face.

‘I formally acknowledge you as my nephew, the son of my brother Henri, whom I once loved. And while you are in Paris under a flag of truce you are also under my personal protection.’ He gave me a small, chilly smile before continuing: ‘But, as God is my witness, you are also an enemy, a knight who is bound to King Richard, the mortal foe of my King, and if there comes a day when this truce is over and we must face each other on the battlefield, on that day I shall treat you as I would any other enemy knight. Is that understood?’

‘I understand, sir,’ I said.

‘But until that sad day arrives, Nephew, you are a welcome guest in my house.’ And the old warrior almost crushed my chest as he embraced me in his powerful arms.


We dined together then, the Seigneur, Roland, Adèle and myself – and I told them a little of my father’s life in England, and of his death, and I recounted my quest so far to find the ‘man you cannot refuse’. The Seigneur became grave when I mentioned the name of my enemy. ‘I have heard of this man,’ my uncle said. ‘I have heard the Provost speak of someone who goes by that ugly title. He is said to have the wealth of Crassus and to command the loyalty of a number of gangs of bandits and thieves in the wild lands in the south of the Île de France.’