Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,83

him would he be imprisoned, or was he being taken to his own execution? Somehow, despite the fact that the latter was a real possibility, Gregory felt so dazed by what had already happened to him that his brain refused to feel any fear for the future. It was as if all his emotional strength had already been used up b y the events of the day.

They were through the gates of the Tower now, and into the courtyard beyond. A man ran up at Monchesny’s shout, and led away his horse. Gregory, still surrounded by four men, and led by Monchesny, was taken across the courtyard and into the main door of the great White Tower. Immediately, they were in the hall.

The noise and movement of the horde of people inside was like a physical blow, after the eerie silence around the Jewry. Gregory blinked in the leaping flames from the fire, and the blazing torches which, thrust into holders, lined the walls. As they entered, heads turned in their direction, and the noise died away, as the men stared at this richly-dressed young man, guarded by soldiers, who had been brought into their midst.

A voice rang out from the other end of the hall.

"Well, Monchesny," it said. "You have had a successful hunt, I see! Bring your quarry closer."

Monchesny, grinning, gestured to the guard to remain where they stood. Then, placing his own hand firmly on Gregory’s shoulder, he propelled him forward. The crowd made way for them, so that by the time they reached the high table, they were almost processing through two rows of curious men. Gregory felt himself flushing beneath the stares, and held his head high. He caught one or two whispers, a muttered curse, and one BOSON BOOKS

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man spat into the rushes that covered the floor as he passed. At last (it seemed), they reached the speaker.

Monchesny bowed.

"My Lord de Montfort," he said. "This is Gregory Rokesly, who warned the Jews of our coming..."

"...and spoiled, your fun, eh?" said Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.

Monchesny tightened his lips.

"My Lord," he said, with another bow. "Had we not ordered the men into the Jewry, the whole City might be ablaze by now."

"Ah?" said de Montfort, leaning forward. "Do you say so? And how do you know this?"

"We were brought word of the plan, my Lord," said Monchesny. "I can tell you all you wish to know, but is this the place?"

He let his voice trail away, and looked de Montfort directly in the face for the first time.

The Earl looked back thoughtfully, then nodded.

"I take your point, Monchesny," he said. "We will discuss this in my chambers. Let us have Master Rokesly here bedded down for the night, and we will continue this conversation in ten minutes’ time."

He rose from the table, and the rest stood up with him.

"Hugh," he said to the man on his left. "You would like to hear the details, I have no doubt?"

Hugh Dispenser smiled.

"I should indeed, Simon," he said.

Waving to the rest to be seated again, de Montfort turned and left the hall, with Hugh Dispenser following close behind. Monchesny waved two of the guards forward, and delivered Gregory to them.

"The dungeons, Sir William?" said one of them.

"No, no," said Monchesny. "There is a room in the Tower especially prepared for him where he

will

be

able to see how very effective we are at stopping Jewish plans stopping them, dead, you might even say!"

The guards smirked.

"I know just the room you mean, Sir William," said the elder of the two. "Best view in the place, although the quarters themselves are not the standard Master Rokesly is accustomed to enjoy!"

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"A little hardship sharpens up the mind and, in any case, it may not be for long," said Monchesny. "Take him there, and I will come and see that he is ’comfortable’ as soon as I have spoken to Earl Simon and my Lord Dispenser."

He stood watching as the guards hustled Gregory back through the crowd. Now that they knew why he was there, the curses and spitting were open. He arrived at the main door again with gobs of saliva in his hair, on his face, and on his clothes, and feeling the bruises from the jostling he had endured, despite the growled warnings from the guards during their progress. Somehow, the worst part of it was having his arms so tightly held that he was unable to wipe his face. He felt as though he would never