Twenty-eight
Melisande arrived at the hunting lodge just past the midday hour. Copley met her on the track that approached the building with three of the bowmen that worked under him, and was standing respectfully beside his horse as his mistress approached.
Copley looked nervous. He had fortified himself with a small measure of wine when he had received Melisande’s message, but had dared take no more for fear of a reprimand from his cousin. “Good morrow, mistress,” he greeted Melisande obsequiously. “I believe Lady Nicolaa is already within the lodge. There are horses outside.”
Melisande dismounted impatiently. “I have eyes to see, Copley,” she said brusquely. “Let us go in and find out what it is that Lady Nicolaa wants of me. If King John is to have a hunt on Camville land, I cannot see how I am involved, but if my assistance is needed I would prefer to deal with it quickly. I have much to do before the king arrives.”
Inside the lodge, Nicolaa sat on the chair used by her husband when he stayed at the lodge. It was of oak, with broad comfortable arms and a padded seat. Beside her, her son, Richard, who had been standing at the entrance to the lodge, was now sprawled on a bench and, at her back, stood Ernulf and two of his men-at-arms. In a corner of the large chamber, Tostig, Eadric and a couple of the Camville huntsmen waited and watched as a pair of servants from the castle set wine and cups on a table. In the hearth a fire blazed. As Nicolaa waited for the goldsmith’s widow she ran an examining eye over the preparations made for the king in case he should decide to indulge in a foray after deer or boar during his stay in Lincoln.
The lodge was a capacious structure, built of timber, with a cavernous fireplace on one side and an ample scattering of rugs made from wolf hides on the floor. In one corner was a space concealed by a curtain that was fitted with a comfortable mattress and blankets. Although this was for Gerard’s convenience, it had been freshly made with washed linen and a newly covered bolster, in expectant readiness for the king.
Other preparations had also been made. Bottles of wine lay in caskets filled with straw alongside an assortment of cheeses, including the soft white one that John preferred. There were piles of linen napkins and small sealed earthenware jars of fruit preserves and pots of honey. Nicolaa was well aware of her monarch’s penchant for sweetmeats.
On the walls hung coils of rope, snaring nets and leather cases filled with arrows. Wooden chests filled with leather harnesses, fletching knives and candles were set against the walls and near the bed-space straw sleeping pallets for the king’s servants were neatly piled.
The noise of arriving horses distracted Nicolaa from her mental inventory and she looked towards the door as the goldsmith’s widow entered.
“Greetings, Mistress Fleming,” she said in an even tone. “It is a cold day outside. Shed your cloak and have a cup of wine to warm you.”
Melisande nodded her acceptance and came forward to sit on a settle placed near the fire, handing her cloak to the servant who proffered her the wine, looking about her as she did so.
“You come well escorted today, lady, for just a parlay about planning the king’s hunt,” she said to Nicolaa.
“My son thought it wise, with so many recent trespasses by outlaws into our chase, to have me protected by my serjeant and his men as well as his own sword.”
Melisande looked at Richard. He was regarding her with what seemed like amusement, the red Haye hair glinting in the light from the fire as he lifted his wine cup to his lips and drank. “Did you have no fear for your own safety, Mistress Fleming, to come with only a groom into the forest?” he asked languidly.
Melisande flicked a glance at her agister. Copley was nervous, licking his lips and staring longingly at the wine cups laid out on the table. “I knew my agister would meet me along the way,” Melisande replied. “And I was in a hurry.”
She felt as though the sheriff’s son was baiting her and decided to try to take control of the conversation. “Although I do not understand the reason for this meeting, lady,” she said, addressing Nicolaa. “If a hunt is planned for the king in your husband’s chase, there is not likely to be much infringement into the part of the woodland that my deputy patrols.”
Nicolaa rose from her chair and walked slowly to where Melisande sat. Her short, plump figure seemed dowdily dressed beside the rich finery of the other woman, but her stance, and the calmness of her face beneath the plain white coif, would have given any observer not familiar with her status no doubt that she had authority, and knew how to use it.
“It has come to my notice that there is more infringement, as you call it, in the forest than is at first apparent,” she said.
Melisande’s head came up. She regarded the castellan with an intense stare. “What do you mean, lady?” she asked.
“I mean, Mistress Fleming, that serious crimes have been discovered. Crimes committed against the very warrant that you are sworn to uphold.”
Melisande stood, placing her wine cup on the settle as she did so. “Are you accusing me of dereliction in carrying out the duties of my office, Lady Nicolaa? If so, I would know the charges, and then will answer for them to the chief justice at the forest eyre court, not to you.”
“Sit down, mistress,” Nicolaa commanded abruptly. “You will listen to me, and listen well. If you do not, you will be taken back to Lincoln and held confined until the king arrives. On the authority of my husband, the sheriff.” To reinforce her threat, Nicolaa withdrew from the pouch at her belt a small rolled parchment, from which a seal dangled. On it, the imprint of the Camville emblem of two lions passant could clearly be seen.
Shocked by the sight of the warrant, Melisande did as she was bid, reseating herself unsteadily on the settle. Nicolaa turned away and walked back to her chair. There she turned, and said, “My bailiff has conferred with the regarder for the royal chase over which you hold your post as chief forester. Also, an inspection has been made of the statement of revenues for the area. It would appear that these incomes have not been truthfully reported.”
“I have no knowledge of such-” Melisande began.
“Be quiet, mistress, and do as my mother has bid you. Listen.” Richard’s words cut effectively through what she had been about to say and, with an effort, Melisande swallowed her protest.
“As I said, Mistress Fleming,” Nicolaa continued, “the statement of revenues-which you submitted-is not a true one. For example, they do not include the income from the deforestation of two fine stands of oak, the timber from which was sold, purportedly on behalf of the king. It also seems the fees collected for pasture and pannage have been grossly understated, as have those the peasants pay for the right of estover so they can gather wood.” Nicolaa sat down in her chair and motioned for a servant to refill her wine cup before she continued. “How do you explain these irregularities, mistress?”
Melisande’s face was ashen. Her hands, of which she was so vain, were clenched together with such intensity that the knuckles were like raw red spots against the whiteness of the tendons. She made no response.
“You cannot, can you?” Nicolaa said quietly. “Yet you are pledged to preserve the rights of the king in the venison and vert of his forest, not abuse them.”
Nicolaa made a signal to Ernulf and the men-at-arms came to stand beside Copley and the other woodsmen in Melisande’s employ, all of whom had begun to shuffle uncomfortably towards the door.
“Well, mistress?” Nicolaa prompted. “Have you no answer to these charges?”
Melisande sat silent, only the shaking of her head in a small tight gesture indicated that she had heard.