The Greatest Knight by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online

as if holding secrets, and a pedantic air. He made it clear that living by the sword was an acceptable occupation, but nowhere near as worthy as making one’s mark through the Church. He made much of his ability to read and write in Latin. As he pompously held forth, William and John had exchanged glances, the tension between them thawed by mutual opinion. Having a priest in the family was useful—but, in Henry’s case, preferably at a far distance. “God help anyone who has to listen to his sermons,” John had muttered from the side of his mouth and William had responded with an irreverent chuckle. Still, since Henry was family and the fraternal ties existed for the benefit of all, they let him boast. Who knew when they might need his learning?
    William’s mother had given him a cross set with beryls of cat’s-eye green to wear around his neck, saying that it would protect him from injury, and the women had found time to stitch him two new shirts for his baggage. Alais had presented him with a pair of mittens and a kiss on the cheek—much to John’s ire. William smiled, remembering, and turned at a shout to face his uncle who was striding along the dockside, accompanied by his household knights and retainers.
    Patrick FitzWalter, Earl of Salisbury, had florid good looks running to flesh at the jowls. His paunch strained against his Flemish woollen tunic, but he moved easily and he was solid rather than flabby. For seven years, he had been the King’s commander in Aquitaine and was a trusted, competent soldier. He had the approval of both King Henry and Queen Eleanor, which, William had discovered, was something of a novelty in the Angevin household these days.
    “I wondered where you had gone,” his uncle said.
    “I wanted to watch the loading, my lord.” William smiled ruefully. “If I had stayed any longer in that alehouse I’d have been tempted to drink myself into a stupor.”
    Earl Patrick grinned, exposing even white teeth marred by a missing incisor. “I take it that you dislike crossing the water.”
    “Yes, my lord,” William said, adding hastily, “but I do at need.”
    “So do we all, young man. There’s not many of us born sailors. Your horses boarded all right?”
    William glanced towards one of the transports riding at anchor. “Yes, my lord. One of the destriers baulked at the gangplank, but a groom tempted him aboard with an apple.”
    Earl Patrick cupped his hands and blew on them. The vapour of his breath was wine-scented, revealing that he too had fortified himself for the night crossing to come. “Sounds like its owner,” he said.
    William laughed. He had developed an immediate rapport with his uncle who was at home both in the battle-camp and the court. Patrick of Salisbury knew how to roister and how to be refined. Despite rivalry in feats of arms being encouraged among his knights on the practice field, and the existence of a hierarchy, the atmosphere in his household was comfortable and the jesting largely without malice. Not that Patrick FitzWalter was an easy lord. Like Guillaume de Tancarville, he expected to be served with alacrity. He kept long hours and he required his men to do the same. Earl Patrick had been highly entertained to hear that William’s nicknames in de Tancarville’s mesnie had been “Guzzleguts” and “Slugabed.”
    “You’ll have no time for either in mine,” he had promised. “The more so because you’re my nephew. Favouritism is out…unless you earn it in front of all.”
    Knowing where he stood, William had settled with gratitude and pride to the task of being his uncle’s knight and bearing the Salisbury colours on his shield.
    ***
    Although he had spoken of not favouring William above the other knights of his mesnie, Patrick of Salisbury had taken a keen interest in his nephew. For one so young he had started trailing glory early—if the stories were to be believed. William himself had been dismissive of the incidents, but his mother,