Lord Liar Part 1

Lord Liar.

by Laurie Grant

Prologue.

Kingsclere, 1077

It had been quite an innocent action, in truth, the attempt of one child to comfort another, for her heartbroken sobs at the loss of her treasure quite unsettled his composure. What began as a childish challenge-- "I dare you to walk out on that log that sticks out into the middle of the brook, for I vow you are too affrighted to try, being but a damsel, after all" --had ended in her falling into the cold water, though not before she had reached the end successfully and was turning to walk back. He had had to rescue her because her kirtle snagged on a submerged branch, so both had ended up drenched and shivering in the cool April wind. Muddy, and leaving a dripping trail, they had sought refuge in a small room off the front of the barn where extra tack and blankets were kept for the mighty des triers and sleek palfreys of Kingsclere. They were making use of those same blankets to dry their chilled bodies when Aldyth discovered the loss of her beloved green hair ribbon and set up a wail.

Of course, Aldyth had many adornments for her chestnut tresses, but the one lost was the selfsame one that Ranulf had brought her from his trip to London, saying that he had been compelled to purchase it because it matched the jade green hue of her eyes. Now it was swept away by the spring- swollen force of the brook, and she was quite devastatedly sure she would never have anything as lovely again. In addition, her mother would probably beat her for muddying her new forest green gunna and kirtle. The hem of the outer garment also had a long, jagged rent.

All these upsetting thoughts added to her distress until Ranuff simply had had to pull her close and soothe her. Her cool, clammy skin touched his, for they had stripped, the better to huddle up in the blankets and warm themselves before facing her mother's wrath.

Completely unaware in the carnal sense of the feel of her childish b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his bare boyish chest, the boy shut his eyes and murmured endearments to her, some in Norman French, some in English. The clean fragrant scent of her hair blended in his nose with the stable aromas of horse, hay and leather--not an unpleasing mixture for a lad of seven, about to leave home to be fostered in the household of the Conqueror himself.

Aldyth had quieted under Ranulf's ministrations, having heard him pledge her more such ribbons of the same color, but then piped up,

"But, Ranulf, the next time you will be in London is when you leave to join the court of the king!

And then you'll not return until you are a man! " She began to sob afresh.

"Aldyth," he began, sighing into her ear,

"Ifil be permitted visits occasionally--it's not banishment, you know.

And if the gift is more important than the giver," he added, holding her away a little so that she could see he was teasing, " I could always pay a courier to bring it. " " Ranulf! " she squealed, embarra.s.sed that she had sounded like a greedy brat in front of the friend that she adored.

"I'll show you which is more important!" She flung herself fervently against him, press' rag her mouth to his, just as she had seen the dairy maid do to the shepherd. Aldyth's body had not yet begun to hear the far-off echoes of adolescence and the pa.s.sionate nature that would be hers, but she did feel a precocious delight in the strength of his st.u.r.dy hairless chest against her and the enthusiasm with which he returned her kiss as he pulled her slight form closer.

"Oh, Ranulf, I will miss you so much..."

"And you, too, Aldyth... I didn't know how much until this moment.

Wait for me, Aldyth. "

Then suddenly, as childish promises were being exchanged, they were blinded as the door from the barn was opened, tentatively at first and then slammed against the adjoining wall to the extent its rusty hinges would allow as the two were seen. Ranulf found himself se'tzed by the shoulder and pulled out into the sunshine near the barn's entrance by Lord ltienne himself, who paused as he recognized the shivering, blinking girl as the daughter of his trusted castellan, Nyle of Sherborne.

With a roar he boxed his son's ears, shouting,

"Foolish puppy! Is this how you think to prepare for knighthood? By dishonoring the daughter of my va.s.sal?"

"Nay, my lord," spoke up the boy, praying that his voice wouldn't quaver and the tears that threatened would not spill over. Rarely had he had reason to fear his sire, for the Earl of Kingsclere ruled his children with a firm but loving hand. He saw that Lord gtienne had misread the situation and hastened to add,

"I was but comforting Aldyth. We fell into the brook and got wet, and she lost her ribbon" -- "And that required stripping down until you were as G.o.d made you?" Lord ltienne gave a mirthless laugh.

"G.o.d's blood, I am not so gullible as that! I tumbled many a wench, lad, until I met your mother..." At the mention of Lady Nichola his voice softened.

"But I suggest you wait a few seasons and let one of the many willing serving wenches about the court initiate youl The daughter of Sir Nyle is not for your pawing, hear me, c.o.c.kerel?"

Then, remembering Aldyth's presence just inside the tack room door, he called softly to her,

"We are going. Put your clothes back on and go to your chamber for dry garments."

Swathed in the blanket, she came to the door, where she could face him.

"But, Lord tienne, Ranulf has given you the right of it--he meant no harm.

Please don't punish him or tell my mother and father!"

The earl stood firm.

"Don't worry, Aldyth. You will not be blamed.

The fault is with my son, who needs to learn the meaning of treating a maid with honor. Go now," he said, gesturing in dismissal, and she shut the door as Ranulf was dragged off to a more stringent penance.

"I had hoped to keep him by us until Michaelmas," said Lady Nichola that night as Lord lh. tienne held her close in their great bed. She had every mother's reluctance to release her firstborn son to the joys and responsibilities of manhood, though she knew it was inevitable. That was the way of n.o.ble houses. They did not rear their own sons, lest the sons grow too soft under their mothers' watchful eyes. Once Ranulf left the keep at Kingsclere to join William's court, he would set his foot on the road to manhood, leaving, she feared, his need for the love of a mother forever.

But not for the world would she have turned him aside from that road, for a boy kept at home was forever an object of derision and not worthy of knighthood.

"Yes, I know, mamie," answered Lord ltienne. He was sensitive to her feelings and knew of the struggle within her to let go of her son and did not disparage her fears.

"But you must see he is ready--today's event has proved that, if nothing else."

Lady Nichola could not repress a chuckle.

"I'm afraid Sir Nyle would have been ready to come after your heir if he had been told. He idolizes his daughter, you know, as if he cannot believe that he and Mercia between them could have made such a lovely creature."

Lord ltienne smiled in the half-light shed by the embers in the brazier, picturing Sir Nyle's and Mercia's st.u.r.dy Saxon faces and the chestnut-haired beauty who had been born two years after Ranulf. The castellan and his family were visiting now from Sherborne, as Sir Nyle needed to consult with his lord about that keep's need for more adequate defenses.

He reached to pull the hangings of the bed closed around them.

"I'll warrant Mercia did not hold the wench blameless when she saw the muddy dress, though to her sire, Aldyth can do no wrong. She's probably no more able to sit down than our Ranulf." Then, feeling they had discussed the children enough, he reached for his wife.

Two mornings later, Ranulf, accompanied by his father, mounted his palfrey manfully and set out for London, unaware that from the tower window Aldyth watched with tears coursing down her wan cheeks.

Chapter One Sherborne, 1088 The earl's son is back, I hear," Helwise the cook informed G.o.da the laundress as both drew water from the well in the bailey of Sherborne Castle.

"Young Ranulf back at Kingsclere? Has he left the court, then?"

"Nay. O' course not," the cook scoffed.

"He's just here for a visit.

And it's Lord Ranulf now," she added importanfly.

"Knighted by King William himself, he was. The fkst William, that is, not the new one--and the new one's gifted him with his own manor near Winchester."

But G.o.da was not interested in who reigned in far-off Winchester and London.

They were all Norman, so what made the difference? She started to walk away, but Helwise was not about to lose her audience so easily.

"I just happened to be in the hall when Sir Nyle and his daughter were breaking their fasts, and Kingsclere's steward arrived with the letter. Sir Nyle had it read aloud-- though you could have guessed the message if ye were deaf from Lady Aldyth's face," Helwise concluded with a snort. "What dye mean?"