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“Stephen once swore allegiance to her,” Hugh pointed out calmly.

“We all did!” Nigel cried. “Her father, the old king, forced us to.”

Hugh shrugged.

“You cannot declare for the empress, lad,” Bernard said. He too had gotten to his feet. “Ralf was Stephen’s man. He had his manors of Stephen. You cannot expect to hold them from another.”

“Perhaps I do not want to hold them,” Hugh said. “Perhaps I would rather give them to you.”

At that, Bernard’s mouth dropped open with shock.

Hugh smiled at him. His smile was so rare that when it came its effect was extraordinary. “You are growing old to be a landless knight, Bernard. Wouldn’t you like to be the lord of Keal?”

Bernard recovered himself. “Don’t be a fool, Hugh,” he said sternly.

“You said yourself that I should get away from here,” Hugh pointed out.

“I meant that you should go with Nigel! In the name of God, lad, how do you think you will support yourself if you give up Keal?”

“I have been thinking that perhaps I might try earning my living at the tournaments in France,” Hugh said. He stepped away from the table. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have some business I must attend to.” He put his hand upon the carved back of his chair and asked with belated courtesy, “Will you be staying to dinner?”

Bernard set his jaw. “Aye,” he said. “I will stay for dinner.”

“So will I,” said Nigel Haslin.

“How delightful,” said Hugh.

The two older knights stood on the dais and watched the slender figure of their host as he strode to the door and went outside into the cold March morning.

Alone at the table, they turned to look at each other.

“Was he serious?” Nigel asked incredulously.

Bernard sighed. “One never knows with Hugh.”

“I cannot believe he would prefer Matilda to Stephen!”

“He cannot declare for Matilda and continue to hold Keal and his other manors. He knows that. He was just trying to rile us.”

“He was very quick to mention the tournaments in France.” Nigel was seriously agitated. “It seems to me that he has been thinking about this.”

“He won’t go to France,” Bernard said positively. “Adela would not have liked it, and Hugh never does anything that Adela wouldn’t have liked.”

The last of the breaking-fast tables had been stacked against the wall and all of the men had left the hall. Several serving girls were sweeping up the rushes on the floor.

Nigel rested his hand upon his belt, in the place where his sword would normally hang. He scowled. “Why would he refuse so to see the Lady Isabel?”

“I have no idea.” Bernard gestured that the other man should resume his chair. When both were once more sitting, he asked, “Is there any way we can proceed with this business and leave out taking Hugh to see Stephen?”

“I am not prepared to hand Wiltshire over to the empress,” Nigel replied very stiffly.

“I doubt very much that Hugh knows his own mind about who he will support,” Bernard said. His pale blue eyes fixed the dark gaze of the other knight. “I can tell you this, though. Hugh was raised by the most honorable man I ever knew. He will make his choice based on his judgment as to what is best for the country, not on what is best for himself.”

The serving girls were now sweeping the old rushes into the fire, which flared up with the addition of fresh fuel.

Bernard went on, “From what you have told me of Earl Guy, Hugh is by far the better man.”

After a long moment, Nigel shook his head regretfully. “Hugh simply cannot challenge Guy without the backing of the king.”

“What about the backing of the Church?” Bernard countered.

Nigel’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

“If Hugh is able positively to name Guy as the man behind his father’s murder, and if he can bring some proof to support his accusation, then Guy will be guilty of fratricide. Under those circumstances, the church will force him to forfeit his brother’s property.”

Nigel made an impatient gesture. “But you have told me that Hugh doesn’t remember anything about his early life.”

“Perhaps revisiting the scenes of his childhood will bring back his memory,” Bernard said. His voice took on a note of gruffness. “Something terrible happened to that boy to make him forget the way he has. In truth, I begin to wonder if perhaps he might have been present when his father was killed.”

“Good God!” said Nigel.

“Aye,” Bernard said. “Such a sight might well cause a seven-year-old to blank out his memory.”

Silence fell as the two men contemplated this harrowing thought.

Finally Nigel said, “What do you want me to do?”

“Convince Hugh to pay a visit to your home. He said earlier in scorn that perhaps you could arrange an interview between him and his uncle. Well…perhaps you can.”

Nigel gave a short bark of laughter. “You want me to introduce Hugh to Guy as his lost nephew? That would be somewhat dangerous, I fear.”

“No, I don’t want you to actually introduce them. I want you to bring Hugh to Chippenham disguised as one of your own knights.” Bernard gave Nigel a piercing look. “You can surely find some reason to pay a visit to Guy?”

“Well, aye…”

“Chippenham was the castle where the old earl was murdered. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Aye. Chippenham has ever been the main castle of the earls of Wiltshire. It is where Hugh grew up.”

“Then take Hugh there. It is possible that once he has returned to the scenes of his childhood, he will begin to remember things.”

“Things that will lead to the truth about his father’s murder?”

“Perhaps,” said Bernard somberly.

After a minute, Nigel let out his breath in a long sigh. “We could try it, I suppose.”

Bernard’s eyes went to the door through which Hugh had exited a few moments before. He nodded slowly.

“The question is: How I am going to get him to agree to visit me?” Nigel said. “You must admit that he has proved markedly uncooperative thus far.”

“He might agree to a visit if we give him time,” Bernard said. “If he has actually been thinking of going off to the French tournaments, he is desperate to get away from here.”

“He is not going to be easy to hide,” Nigel warned. “Once Guy gets a look at his face, he will recognize him as Roger’s son. We may very well be placing Hugh in grave danger.”

The scent of herbs drifted to their nostrils as the serving girls began to sprinkle fresh rushes around the hall.

“He will be in worse danger if he remains here,” Bernard said bleakly. “If we set him to unraveling a thirteen-year-old mystery, it will at least have the benefit of occupying his mind.”

4

The forest stretched away darkly on either side of the track, but the road itself was wide enough for the late August sun to reach through the trees and reflect off the mail of Hugh and his party of four as they crossed into Wiltshire to begin the final stage of their journey. Purple-red foxglove blossomed along the edges of the road, and the sound of birds flying busily among the deep green branches of the trees accompanied the riders as they trotted steadily along the forest track. The smell of summer was still in the air.

Here and there the mounted company passed small assarts, cut out of the woods by poor farmers willing to work hard for a little land of their own. Otherwise there was just the forest, rich with game waiting to be hunted by some great lord.

What am I doing here?

The thought echoed through Hugh’s mind as he rode his white stallion in the midst of the four knights Nigel Haslin had sent to escort him to Nigel’s home for the visit Hugh had finally agreed to pay.

It had taken him five months to give in. When Nigel had first proposed that Hugh should come to Somerford, he had refused, as he had refused all the subsequent invitations delivered regularly by one of Nigel’s knights.