Hugh was feeling as if they were blaming him for his insistence that they conceal their identities and stay away from Winchester in the days following Canterbury’s assassination. He sighed heavily. “So we are returning now to tell him everything and pray for his blessing,” he said. “If he does not give it, then we must make it clear that we were following Val’s lead. It will be the four of us against him. That is why we gave him the forged missive, is it not? So Val would take the blame if Henry is displeased. We must insist on this.”
William shook his head in disgust. “If Val has already gone to Henry, then Henry knows that we instigated it,” he reminded Hugh. “Moreover, Val had several men with him who will vouch for the fact that Val did not kill Canterbury; we did. And whatofthat missive? Henry will know that it was forged and Calum willtestify that we gave it to him. Henry will know that we were at the root of everything!”
Hugh was feeling his position weaken by the moment. Coming into Winchester from the south, they could see it ahead about a half a mile. The morning was gloomy and a hint of rain was in the air as Hugh finally pulled his horse to a halt. The other three followed suit, all of them looking at the city ahead.
“And so, it comes,” he said quietly. “Do we enter Winchester and tell Henry that we have rid him of his nemesis? Or do we go to him and blame Val de Nerra for it?”
FitzUrse, his gaze locked on the castle in the distance, spoke. “If we believed this was Henry’s order, then we should have no shame in telling the king what we have done.”
Hugh looked at him. “We were convinced enough when we planned the event.”
“Now I am not so sure.”
Truth be told, Hugh wasn’t, either. None of them were. The aftermath of the event caused them all to wonder if they’d done the right thing. Doubt was what had caused them to go into hiding. The doubt was still there, gaining in strength.
“If we tell him what we have done and he is displeased, it could mean our end,” Richard said. “I am not entirely certain that Henry will be happy with what we have done.”
“Nor am I,” William said quietly. “Val told us to return to tell Henry, but I am not willing to meet my end today. Let us flee England and send Henry a missive from afar, seeking his counsel on our actions. Let Val explain his role in all of this; I, for one, am not ready to face Henry. Come with me if you wish, for I am leaving the sight of Winchester behind me.”
He turned his horse south, for there was a road leading east a mile or so back, a road that would lead them across southern Hampshire to another road heading north into London. There, they could make an escape if they chose to because today wasn’ta day for confessions. Men who had been so convinced of a royal order weren’t so convinced any longer.
It was easier to let another take the blame.
One by one, the other knights followed him, all of them fleeing Winchester and the justice that awaited them. It was easier to escape what they’d done rather than face it.
Face a king who had lost an old friend by their hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Vesper had neverbeen to Winchester Castle but she’d certainly heard tale of it. Coming in from the northeast on that gloomy morning, she could see the vastly large complex to the southwest, looming above the town that surrounded it like the jewel in a crown.
The village of Winchester itself was a fairly large establishment, having been one of the places that the Duke of Normandy began laying down his foundation of conquest so many years ago. Winchester Castle had been part of that and as the party from Selborne drew near, the size and structure of the castle began to come into view. It was positively enormous, a huge fortress surrounded by a moat big enough to be a lake.
It was past the nooning meal by the time they arrived in town and most people had gone about their morning business, but there were still a great many villeins who paused before their homes or places of business to watch the gang of knights and two small women ride by.
The homes near the edge of the town were newer, of waddle and daub construction and pitched roofs, while the homes nearer the center of the town and towards the castle were older.Some weren’t particularly well-kept and more than one home could be seen in the midst of repairs.
Vesper thought it was all quite fascinating, even fascinating enough for her to forget why they’d come. She’s spent the last several hours in silence, riding alongside Val, keeping her dagger in her hand in case some fool tried to harm him. In truth, it had been rather exhausting to be so edgy all of the time and unable to relax, so by the time they’d reached Winchester, she was feeling a good deal of fatigue. But she pushed it aside, ignoring the aches and the hunger because she knew that, now, they were quickly approaching what would soon become Val’s fight for life. Henry was waiting for him in the walls of that enormous castle and she wouldn’t let her guard down until it was all over.
Until Val was free.
On the other side of Val, Margaretha hadn’t uttered a word, either. She kept that enormous broadsword across her lap as she rode and Vesper was growing increasingly concerned for the older woman. Vesper knew that if she was exhausted, then Margaretha must be feeling it, too. But to her credit, Margaretha remained stoic and calm. That seemed to be her usual manner, which Vesper was coming to appreciate. But she wondered just how that calm demeanor would hold once Henry confronted Val. The very fact that Margaretha had come at all showed that she was a lioness who wasn’t about to let her cub fall victim to Henry’s anger.
The great gatehouse of Winchester faced east so they skirted the moat, heading for the big structure at the head of the bridge that spanned the moat. Vesper’s attention was torn between the castle and its ominously big walls and the village off to the west that they had recently passed through. People were still watching them, like a passing parade, but Vesper’s attention ended up on the gatehouse when they finally reached it.
That was when the situation became interesting.
Passing through the gatehouse hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, the horses’ hooves creating hollow sounds as they clopped across the bridge that led into the vast bailey of Winchester. But once they reached the bailey, littered with outbuildings and another smaller set of walls that isolated the keep off to the north, it was as if a massive army was waiting inside for them.
Soldiers were strewn all over the ward and makeshift camps were dotted all through it, accompanied by the appropriate rubbish and scents. It smelled like a zoo of men. As the incoming escort came to a halt, armed men approached from the direction of the keep, making their way through the hundreds of soldiers in the bailey.
“My lord,” a heavily-armed soldier bearing a crimson tunic with the royal lion on it addressed d’Vant. “Henry has sent me to bring the prisoner to him. He has seen your party coming from the east for quite some time and demands his presence.”
D’Vant dismounted his war horse, turning it over to one of the grooms who had rushed out from the stables.
“No need,” he told the soldier calmly. “I will escort de Nerra.”
“But Henry said….”
