The Shattered Rose Page 0,72

honor her for that."

"It is indeed honorable," said Flambard, adding dryly, "if a trifle belated.

According to my information, she was not intimate with you throughout her pregnancy or afterward."

Lowick flushed. "I honor her for that too. She is not a sinful woman, my lord bishop. We were weak, but only once."

"Yet I'm sure you tried to persuade her to sin again."

"I have confessed it to you."

Flambard studied his tool uneasily. Surely Lowick was right, and Jehanne of Heywood preferred him to her husband. But in his experience, women were not given to such noble scruples, especially when they think their husband is dead. If the Lady Jehanne was merely afraid to flee her husband, that could be solved by the man's death. If she sincerely repented of her sin, however, she could take herself - and her property - to a convent, which would not suit at all.

Jehanne of Heywood could be the means to break the power of William of Brome and secure Flambard's undisputed power in the north. She could also prove to be a disaster, and what he'd learned of her worried him. He much preferred stupid, docile women.

"Brother Forthred brought back a story of Lord Galeran being attacked near his home."

"Brigands?" asked Lowick without great interest.

"Doubtful. The attacker was a lone crossbowman."

That jerked the man out of his thoughts. "A crossbow! That's the devil's tool. What would such a wretch hope to achieve?"

"Lord Galeran's death, I assume."

"Was Galeran injured?" Flambard could not detect a trace of hope in the man's face.

"Scarcely at all."

"I give thanks for that. No man should die in such a dishonorable way. By the Holy Cross, if I could get my hands on such a low rogue as that . . ."

"It has already been dealt with, Sir Raymond. Lord Galeran dispatched him, with considerable vigor, or so I hear."

Lowick nodded his approval. "He is capable in his own way."

Flambard eyed the noble fool. "It would not have been completely inconvenient for Galeran of Heywood to have died there, you know."

Lowick frowned again, but this time with puzzlement. "What has that to do with it?"

Flambard abandoned that line of debate. "You gave me to understand that Lord Galeran is not a notable warrior."

"How could he be, so small as he is? But it takes little brawn and skill to execute a villain."

"It seems Lord Galeran fought well in the Holy Land."

The man frowned in genuine perplexity. "Have I ever suggested otherwise?"

"You have never shown a high opinion of his fighting skills."

The frown tangled the golden brows even further. "I merely mean that he has no great taste for it and is lacking in stature. I am sure he would do his part in a battle."

"But you still think you could defeat him in a court battle?"

The frown cleared. "Without a doubt, my lord. I would regret the necessity, but for the sake of Jehanne and our child, I would do it."

Flambard was no longer sure he could depend on this success, though Lowick was known as a formidable opponent. He had a prickle of uncertainty about this whole affair. The lord of Heywood's reactions upon his return had not been normal except for that one blow. Anyway, court battles were always chancy things, best avoided if there were safer ways.

He tossed in the next piece of information without warning. "The king is dead."

It clearly took a few moments for the new idea to penetrate. "Rufus?

How?"

"Unlike the lord of Heywood, he did not escape the convenient arrow."

"The king was with Galeran?"

"No," said Flambard, holding on to his patience. "He was with his brother Henry in the New Forest. Henry, I assume, has seized the throne by now.

Unfortunately he is no friend of mine. We must hope that Duke Robert arrives back in Normandy soon."

"You think the duke would be more likely to support my case?"

"For the promise of your support, yes." Flambard spelled out the situation.

"If William of Brome throws in his lot with Henry, Duke Robert will be looking for a staunch supporter here in the north. That could be me, and you, once Galeran of Heywood is dead and his widow is your wife."

Watching Lowick stand taller at the thought, Flambard ran his hand over the smooth white skull on the table.

"What's that?" asked Lowick with distaste. "A child's skull?"

"The skull of John the Baptist as a child."

Lowick promptly sank to one knee. "My Lord! May I touch it?"

Flambard sighed again. "Of course."

Raymond reverently touched the white bone, then kissed it,