To Defy a King by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online Page B

in dismay, for the dog had found a heap of fresh horse dung and was rolling in it with luxurious abandon.

    'Looks like you're going to need some more water.' Will laughed. 'Are you still certain you want to keep him?'

    At Portsmouth, Hugh sat under the awning of his father's striped pavilion and sheltered from the heat of the June sun. The tent had been set up to face the blue glitter of the sea. Around him the Bigod troops had begun striking camp. The cooking fire was being left to go out and men were folding up canvas and harnessing packhorses.

    His father returned from the beach and flopped on to a stool. Hugh poured a cup of watered wine from the jug on the trestle and handed it to him. 'The King is still at it,' Roger said. 'If he hopes to embarrass us all into embarking with him, he will be disappointed.'

    Hugh rubbed the sun-reddened back of his neck. 'I have told the men to strike camp.' For the last two days, the King had been trying to shame his barons into crossing the Narrow Sea by embarking himself and sailing up and down within view of those on the shore. Thus far the only men to join him had been his mercenaries and Longespee. Treading a delicate path, his father had declined to put his own men on ships, but had offered up the shield tax on his knights' fees so the King could buy mercenaries if he wished.

    'Good.' From beneath the broad, shady brim of his straw hat, his father gazed at the shimmering vista of tents. 'I doubt we'll be here for much longer.'

    'What will happen to the Marshal?' Yesterday the latter and King John had quarrelled in public over the Marshal's refusal to embark because he had sworn allegiance to Philip of France for his Norman lands.

    His father swatted away a persistent wasp. 'If he is fortunate, then nothing.
    He has too many friends for the King to isolate him and pick him off, but he might find it wise to lie low for a while. He has dared more than I would, but then he has more to lose.' He nodded towards the royal galley out on the water. 'Look, they're coming in.'

    The King disembarked from the ship, followed by his household knights, mercenaries and some of the crew, and stalked off in the direction of the royal pavilion. William Longespee crunched across the shingle and arrived at the array of tents lining the field beyond the shore. His own camp was still intact; indeed, his cook was applying the bellows to the fire and a spit of freshly caught grey mullet had been set to roast.

    Seeing Roger and Hugh, Longespee diverted to speak to them. His complexion was the colour of tanned leather and weather-creases fanned at his eye corners. 'The King is rightly furious,' he told them, an air of checked anger in his own bearing. He set his hands to his hips and thrust out one foot, clad in dyed calf hide. 'He cannot cross to Normandy without the backing of us all.'

    'There will be a more opportune time,' Roger said evenly. 'Better to husband our resources for now.'

    Longespee fixed him with a hard stare. 'That is the opinion of some.'

    'Of the many,' Hugh said. 'As you can see with your own eyes.'

    Longespee shot him an irritated look. 'That does not make it right.'

    Roger gestured to Longespee's pavilion. 'I notice you are not packing up camp?'

    'No.' Longespee drew himself up. 'I am to head an army to relieve La Rochelle. They have held out thus far, but they need men and supplies and at least the King can provide those for them, whatever else he is prevented from doing. It would be shameful beyond reckoning if the King of France were to devour Poitou as well as Normandy, don't you think?'

    Roger inclined his head. His tone remained level and tactful. 'I wish you success and may God speed your voyage and keep you safe.'

    Hugh repeated his father's sentiments, paying lip service to politeness, although his true feelings were somewhat more tepid. It was typical of his half-brother to see the thick of a military adventure as a superior duty and the right thing to do. Let