Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,84
shady past. There was tension in the camp and frayed tempers.
Will was keeping his head down and staying clear of trouble as much as he could. He admired D’Ypres as a soldier, but he was wary of the large Flemish contingent Stephen maintained as the backbone of his army. Not that D’Ypres was in camp just now.
He had been out on a patrol since yesterday afternoon.
Stephen was preparing to advance on Lisieux and force Geoffrey to commit himself. At the same time he was negotiating with various Norman lords and trying to gain their support. Yesterday, Will had served wine to Rotrou of Mortagne, who had agreed to Stephen’s terms. Today, Stephen was conducting talks with the lords of Tancarville and Laigle.
Going to the camp fire, Will helped himself to a small loaf of bread, breaking it open and tucking into it a thick slice of bacon from the rashers his cook was frying in a huge skillet, then, chewing with enjoyment, he went to look at his horses.
Forcilez, his pied destrier, swung his head and blew a gust of hay-scented breath over him. Will fed him a piece of crust and ran his hand down the solid black and white shoulder. Thus far the stallion was holding his condition despite three months in the field and Will was pleased with his stamina.
Turning at a sudden rumble of hooves, he was in time to see William D’Ypres ride past with his entourage. The mercenary captain’s expression was thunderous. Something bad had happened, that was for certain. Swallowing the last of his breakfast, Will hastened over to Stephen’s pavilion, where he was expected anyway.
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D’Ypres spoke to Stephen with his rage controlled, and all the more powerful for it.
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“He knew,” he growled. “Robert of Gloucester knew about the trap I set for him. How many Normans here in camp are working on his behalf and not ours?” He shot a glare at Will who was decanting the wine for the imminent meeting with Laigle and de Tancarville.
Will turned to Stephen. “Do you want me to leave, sire?” Stephen shook his head. “I trust your discretion, Will. I hardly think you have been sneaking information out of the camp to the Earl of Gloucester or the Count of Anjou.”
“Well, someone has,” D’Ypres spat, “because the whoreson suddenly turned back from the place where I know he had arranged to meet Geoffrey of Anjou’s man. My informants are men I can rely on.”
Will said, “I did not realise my lord of Gloucester was a sworn enemy.”
D’Ypres curled his lip. “He may have made his oath to our lord king, but he is just biding his moment to turn to the other side.”
“What of the count’s man?” Stephen asked. “Was he there?”
“No trace beyond a few hoofprints, sire. The Angevins sneak around like smoke and shadows, and when Gloucester saw my troop, he fled.”
Will busied himself with the wine. From what he could glean, D’Ypres was convinced Robert of Gloucester was passing information to the Angevins and planning to defect to their company. That could well be the case, but if D’Ypres had failed to trap Robert in the act, there was nothing to be done.
Indeed, there were likely to be serious repercussions from this failed attempt, and both Stephen and D’Ypres must be aware that they were treading on precarious ground.
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The consequences arrived two days later as Stephen was striking camp for his march on Lisieux. Robert of Gloucester had been 210
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absent from the court ever since D’Ypres’s failed attempt to trap him in treacherous dealings, but now he arrived at the head of his knights, and was cheered by the Normans and English in the camp because he was popular and the eldest surviving son of the old king. Will was attending Stephen with some others, including D’Ypres, when Robert flung into the tent, his eyes hard with anger.
Stephen immediately rose to his feet.
Robert knelt in obeisance. “Sire,” he said curtly.
Stephen kissed him and raised him to his feet. “I am pleased you are here,” he said. “There is a matter we must set to rights between us.”
“Indeed there is,” Robert said. “I will not be spied upon by your Flemish cur and have my name dragged through the slime. I will not be subjected to attacks on the road when I am about my legitimate business.”
“How is meeting up with Angevin spies legitimate business?” D’Ypres demanded, stepping forward.