He shifted from foot to foot on the muddy bank as he peered across the wide sweep of the Thames. His jaw worked, and he felt the pull of stitches that sealed the wound on his cheek. Mist hung low over the water, teasing glimpses of the small island where Earl William and Hubert of Burgh had met with Prince Louis to discuss terms. To buy peace for their fledgling king.
A stir of wind and Estienne glimpsed a flash of crimson and gold through the fog – the royal standard snapping above a small boat that cleaved a path to the shore. He straightened, one hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. Bargain though they might, he knew well the French were not to be trusted.
The boat’s prow slid up to the muddy bank, and William Marshal stepped out, Hubert just behind. Neither one looked to Estienne like men satisfied with their morning’s work – William’s mouth set, a grimness to the cast of his features. Hubert nodded to Estienne as he passed, swinging astride his destrier without a word.
‘Is all well, my lord?’ Estienne ventured as William reached him. He feared he knew the answer already.
‘We’ve a treaty, for what it’s worth. Bought and paid for. The French will have their pound of silver.’
And the English would be bled dry for it, Estienne thought, but he held his tongue, falling into step beside the earl as they made for their own mounts. There would be precious little celebration in the halls of Windsor Castle tonight, that much was plain.
They rode north in silence but for the jangle of harness and the occasional huff of a steed. With men-at-arms at their back, at least Estienne felt safe as they travelled, something he had not done for the longest time since the rebellion began.
Eventually they cantered beneath the castle’s barbican, standards hanging limp in greeting. When they entered the bailey, Estienne blinked in surprise at the sight that awaited – a small party of men clustered about their horses, mud-spattered from hard travel. And at their head, a figure both familiar and unexpected.
Richard Marshal looked to Earl William, a smile breaking across his wind-chapped face. ‘Father. It’s good to see you well.’
A trace of a smile on Earl William’s face, before he hooked a leg over his saddle. Estienne would have helped him dismount, but one of the castle grooms was already at his side to do the deed.
‘Son. It is good to see you too.’
‘I landed yesterday. When I learned you were here, negotiating with the French bastards, I had to come with all haste.’
The men embraced as Estienne climbed down from his destrier. He watched from a respectful distance as the pair were reunited. They spoke brief words before William excused himself to enter the keep, and Richard turned.
‘Estienne.’ Richard crossed the yard to clasp Estienne’s arm in a warrior’s greeting. ‘Look at you, a man grown. And knighted, if what I hear is true.’
‘By your father’s hand. The greatest honour I could have asked for, and more than I deserved.’
Richard cuffed him fondly about the shoulder. ‘Ever modest, my friend. You’ve earned those spurs a dozen times over. And a trophy from your latest conquest.’ He gestured to the stitched wound on Estienne’s cheek. ‘Any knight should be proud to call you brother.’
The words kindled a warmth in Estienne’s chest. ‘You honour me.’
‘The honour is mine. But tell me, now that you’ve your knighthood, what will you do? What grand adventures are you planning? To win tourneys by the dozen? Earn land and title on the field?’
It was a question Estienne had scarce considered. ‘I suppose… that depends on your lord father. Where he sees fit to send me, I will go. As I always have.’
‘You’ve more than earned the right to your own path, Estienne. Perhaps it’s time you thought about what that might look like. A chance to see more of the world beyond William Marshal’s reach.’
Estienne blinked, taken aback by the boldness of the suggestion. ‘I don’t… I mean, I never thought…’
Richard smiled, clapping him once more on the arm. ‘Peace, my friend. We’ll speak more on it later. For tonight, we’ll feast and drink and make merry. God knows you’ve earned a bit of celebration after the time you’ve had.’
‘Aye,’ Estienne agreed, mustering a smile of his own. ‘I look forward to it.’
And he did, with an eagerness that caught him quite off guard. Some small part of him wondered if it might be the first winds of change beginning to stir, the promise of a wider world unfurling just ahead of him…
* * *
‘You can’t be serious.’ William set down his cup with a clunk, brows lowered into a thunderous line. ‘We’ve only just pried French claws from England’s throat, and you want to go traipsing off into Louis’ backyard?’
Richard leaned forward. ‘Louis’ backyard, perhaps, but Mother’s rightful legacy. Those lands are held in the Marshal name. They must be watched over. Protected.’
‘And this is a matter that requires you specifically?’ William shook his head, mouth pressed into a grim line. ‘After everything, the perils we’ve lived through, you’d risk yourself so readily?’
‘Risk myself?’ Richard laughed, picking up his cup. ‘Father, it’s a visit to our family estates in Normandy, not an invasion. The war is over; the danger has passed us by. And even if it hasn’t, Estienne would be there to guard my back. My shield and my strong right hand, as he’s been before.’
William blew out a gusty sigh. ‘You’re set on this course? Both of you?’
Richard nodded. ‘Our holdings need to be overseen by one of the family, and I will do it. With a sworn brother at my shoulder. Think of it as a well-earned respite. God knows Estienne’s had little enough of that after all these years in your service.’
William looked at Estienne. ‘And you, lad? You’re of like mind in this?’
‘I… If it is your will, my lord, I would gladly accompany Richard. But I would not defy your wishes in this. My place is at your side, as it has ever been.’
For a long, taut moment, William simply stared at him, stern features inscrutable. Then, slowly, he reached for his cup and drained the last of his wine in a single, long gulp.
‘France. To keep my bull-headed son from courting trouble.’ The barest hint of a smile crossed his face. ‘Aye, lad. You’ve more than earned a bit of peace. If you’ve the will for it, then you’ve my blessing.’
Estienne felt a wild exultation surging in his gut. ‘My lord, I… I would be honoured.’
‘Then that’s settled,’ Richard declared, lifting his empty cup in salute. ‘To Ser Estienne. And to the poor French bastards who’ll have to put up with us.’
* * *
Dawn broke sullen and grey, the sky heavy with unshed rain. Estienne heard the distant clatter of tack and hoof, the low murmur of voices beneath his window. For a moment he simply lay there, staring at the familiar ceiling, head pounding in time to his pulse. A reminder of the night before, the laughter and slurred stories and endless toasts to victory and their king and peace and ventures new…
That thought propelled him upright, ignoring the thud of protest in his abused skull. France. He was bound for France today, riding at Richard’s side.
The bailey was abustle by the time Estienne made his way down, wincing at the too-bright glare off puddled rain. Everywhere he turned, men and horses jostled, readying themselves for the off. Destriers stamped and snorted, eager for the road, as grooms buckled saddlebags and made one last check of arms and armour.
In the centre of it all was Richard. Bright-eyed and windblown, cloak snapping about his shoulders as he swung astride his mount. He caught sight of Estienne and grinned.
‘Awake at last. I was beginning to think I’d have to rouse you with a song.’
‘Thankfully, I saved you the bother.’
Richard looked affronted. ‘There’s still time yet.’
‘As long as you’re not planning to regale us all the way to the coast?’ Estienne shot back as he hurried toward his own mount. ‘I think I’d sooner be deaf.’
Richard’s laughter echoed through the courtyard as Estienne vaulted into the saddle. Heavy footsteps approached, and Estienne turned to see William appear in the morning mist. As ever, his face gave little away, all stern lines and furrowed brow.
‘My lord.’ Estienne bowed his head, fist to his heart. ‘I thank you for this… gift. For… for everything.’
‘Enough.’ William’s gruff voice cut through his stammering. ‘You’ve served me well, Estienne. There’s naught more needs saying on that. Just watch over Richard. He’s a headstrong fool at the best of times, and not half so invincible as he thinks he is.’
‘I will,’ Estienne promised. ‘On my life, I’ll see no harm comes to him.’
William nodded, once. Then he stepped to his son, sharing words that Estienne couldn’t hear. As he watched them, Estienne felt his throat grow tight. All those years striving for William’s regard, his approval… and now with it so nearly in his grasp, he was riding away.
A shout from the head of the column, and the jingle of harness. Richard offered Earl William one final nod and set off at a brisk trot. Estienne gathered his reins, heels finding his steed’s flanks as he moved to catch up. Then they were passing beneath the barbican, hooves clattering on ancient stone as the road unfurled before them.
A new dawn. A new path.
And for the first time in his life, Estienne felt ready to see where it might lead.