London - Edward Rutherfurd [137]
On a chain around his neck he proudly wore a talisman she had given him depicting a rampant lion. She said it was how she thought of him. They were to be married before Christmas.
Her name was Gertha.
That summer, there was one other important change in the Silversleeves family, but it happened so quietly that not even a ripple appeared on the surface of their lives.
During the month of June, Hilda realized that her husband was unfaithful. She could not say for sure when it had begun. The gap between them had slowly grown wider, until one day she discovered that, if the truth be told, neither of them wished any longer to cross it. She guessed there might be other women. Then, one evening in June, he went out and indicated he might not return that night.
Since her father Leofric had been unwell recently, she went to stay with him in her old home by the sign of the Bull. A few nights later, Henri went out again. By then she was sure.
When, at last, the impending crisis came, it did so rather unexpectedly.
Following the storms that ruined the harvest, the weather grew hot and dry. The heat of that wasted summer continued late into a tinder-dry September, and it seemed to most men that some conflagration was likely.
At the end of summer, in the year of Our Lord 1087, while besieging a French castle of no great importance, William, Duke of Normandy and King of England, was wounded. The wound festered. Very soon it was clear that William was dying.
Around his deathbed his family gathered. To Robert was given Normandy; to William Rufus, England; to young Henri, money. Odo, the dying king’s half-brother, was released from prison. Thus the stage was set for a generation of jealousy, intrigue and murder. Some days later, after a long, hot journey across country to the Norman ancestral church at Caen, the putrid corpse of King William the Conqueror, so swollen that it could not be forced into its coffin, burst over the bystanders, scattering entrails and much else besides.
Meanwhile, as quickly as he could, Rufus crossed the Channel to be crowned in England.
Two weeks later, on a warm, dry, October day, a small group of men paid a call on Barnikel the Dane at his house by All Hallows. When Barnikel heard what they wanted, he smiled. “I can provide what you need,” he said. “I have it all under lock and key.” Then, secretly, he sent for Osric.
Barnikel the Dane had no idea that his luck had just run out.
Ralph Silversleeves could hardly believe his good fortune. What a chance, if things worked out, to impress the new Norman king.
He understood the political situation, because Mandeville had patiently explained it to him.
“Robert will try to seize England from Rufus, because he wants to rule over as much as his father did. Odo will probably support him. If so, he’ll be able to bring in a huge party of knights from Kent. To my knowledge, because they don’t like Rufus, a number of the other barons are ready to join them. And you can be sure there’s a party in London ready to go with them if they think there’s profit in it. But,” the magnate continued, “most of the sheriffs and the countryside want the King of England, not the Duke of Normandy, to rule over them. So we are backing Rufus.” He had looked at Ralph bleakly. “Our job is to keep London quiet. Find the conspirators. Find their arms. Rufus will be grateful if we can turn something up.”
The next day, out of the blue, had come this unexpected piece of information, which, when he had thought it over carefully, caused Ralph to summon a dozen spies to him and declare: