19

Father and son looked at each other in a silence thick with tension. Neither knew how to shatter it, nor what to do once it was.

Richard might have hoped his father would declare his support, praise him for his loyalty, and embrace him with paternal love, but he knew better. To Sir Hugh, loyalty was to the power and wealth of family. Love was a word the man never uttered.

The father longed to hear his son swear an oath that he was innocent so he could praise him for honorable intentions, even though misdirected ones. Once he had, Hugh wanted to leave this cell with his son and return him to his rightful place within the circle of young squires closest to King Edward. But the latter was a dream after Richard’s reckless confession. Once the real killer was found, he might see that moment.

The knight spoke first. “You are innocent. Why did you lie?”

Richard turned his back and strode to the table where a small pitcher and two masers sat. “May I serve you wine, my lord? The sheriff has been generous in the comforts he allows me.”

“You would show better judgment and more respect to your father if you answered my question.”

Pouring a drink for himself, the youth sipped at the wine and ignored the comment.

Hugh squeezed his eyes shut to control his temper, then walked stiffly to his son and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

The lad flinched.

“Your loyalty touches me,” Hugh said, quickly removing his hand. “Your aunt told me that you had confessed because you thought you saw me in the hall that night you went to the whore’s room and feared I might be a suspect in her murder.”

Richard did not make eye contact and backed a few steps away.

“I give you my word that I was not there. Never once did I lie with that woman. There is no need to protect me against any accusations.” He waited for a reaction suggesting relief from his son.

Slowly putting his cup down, the youth walked to the side of the room where a crucifix hung on the wall. Folding his hands, he bowed his head.

“You need not be ashamed, Richard. I was a virgin until I found a woman eager to lie with me. No matter what your fellow squires may say, they have either humiliated themselves with their ignorance or have yet to find the courage to approach a woman. You should have come to me about it. My father advised me…”

Hugh stopped as he realized he had never spent enough time with Richard for the lad to voice his fears about manhood. And surely the sodomite monk would have been of little support. Bitterness quickly filled his mouth as he was forced to admit that Brother Thomas had been more helpful in all matters than he had ever been to his own son.

Turning around, the lad smiled but the expression was fleeting. “Your words comfort me, my lord.”

“Then tell the sheriff the truth. No one believes your confession. Shame over your virginity and a noble desire to protect me from suspicion are nothing to hide. I can prove I was not in the hall that night.” Deciding a cup of wine might be a good thing after all, Hugh went to the pitcher and poured some into a mazer.

“But I have still confessed, and the cross I wear was found by the corpse.”

The knight shrugged. “You may have to stay here until the slayer is caught.” He looked at his son.

Richard had turned back to look at the crucifix.

“FitzRoald has already made the confinement comfortable, and he will do all he can to treat you almost as an honored guest. Brother Thomas, your aunt, and other friends may visit.”

“I may not have killed her, but I have sinned.”

“We are men, Richard. We sin. Talk to your aunt if you want consolation or to Brother Thomas if you seek absolution.” Hugh instantly regretted the rough tone of his voice when he mentioned the monk. His son was fond of him and with good reason. Perhaps he would explain, one day when his son was older and wiser about Man’s nature, why he was of mixed mind about Brother Thomas, but this was not the time. “Both serve God well,” he added, although he knew he had not done so quickly enough.

“Dare you speak so lightly of blackened souls?” Richard spun around and glared. “Men are obliged to fight against sin. Our souls are more valuable than our bodies.”

Hugh shrugged, another dismissive gesture he instantly wished he could take back. Although he did not disagree with his son, he had seen too many terrified men, screaming in a bed of their own guts, to accept simple answers so beloved by callow youths. There were holy men who understood God’s inexplicable and often cruel vicissitudes, but they were rare. He had met only one—Lucas—and God let him die.

“You deny God?”

He felt a chill and closed his eyes against the sudden roaring in his ears and the smell of rotting corpses. He wanted to scream but dared not show his weakness to a mere boy who needed to learn how to be a man. Rousing himself from the violent whirlpool of his inexpressible terrors, he waved aside his son’s question. “Forget the incident with Mistress Hawis. I shall soon find you a wife so that you may slake your lusts within the sanctity of marriage. The search will not take long. Since you are entering the king’s service, with the promise of great influence and gifts of land and wealth, many families will be eager to offer a daughter.”

The youth approached with a smirk on his face. “Shall I be allowed to see her and decide if I want her in my bed?”

His father laughed. “I would not force an ugly woman on my only son.”

“You shall seed more sons in the heat of your own marriage bed, my lord. Surely your bastard is only worthy of a lesser woman when fathers have reason to hope that their more comely daughters might win your eye for your true heir.”

Hugh was shocked. Never once had he valued the lad less because of his illegitimate birth. For a fleeting moment, he recalled the first time he held the babe and the eagerness with which he fled with him, joy bursting the limits of his heart, to his own father. Baron Adam had reacted to the child with a welcoming smile, swearing he would rear Richard as Hugh wished. But what had delighted Hugh most was the love he saw in the baron’s own eyes for his first grandson.

“How little you know me if you think I have not done all I could to bring you to a knighthood, the companionship of our king’s sons, and the promise of great honor.” He glared at his boy.

Richard turned as pale as milk. “You care so little for me that you would send me into battle, as you have done, and let my soul wither as yours has?”

For an instant, Hugh grew blind as if his eyes had been drowned in blood. Only because he loved this boy so much was he able to keep from striking him with his clenched fist. “I fought for God in Outremer, whelp,” he hissed. “You dare insult me? A child who has never faced a man in holy battle? One who let his seed fall on the earth like a babe unable to control his pissing?”

Richard roared with mortification. “And you, who swore I had nothing for which to be ashamed, have mocked me as if I were a slave, a cokenay, or a three-legged cur! This is the way a father treats a son he loves? Nay, my lord, you see me only as another means to gain worldly power for the Wynethorpe family, a family whose name I do not fully bear and only that little by your begrudging grace. I am not a son. I am your pawn!” He spat on the ground.

“A lie!” Hugh gasped and stretched out his hand, the closest he could come to pleading forgiveness. “You are my son. Other men have let their bastards starve. I took you on the day of your birth to my own father and demanded he treat you as if I had been married to your mother.”

“Ah!” Richard put his hands on his hips and looked at his father’s open hand with contempt. “Then I may choose my wife, among those of the highest rank, despite the low birth of my mother and my less-than-noble seed.”

Hugh realized from his son’s expression that something was eating at Richard like a canker and it was not the choice of a wife.

“And shall I have a voice when lands are offered or rents?”

“I swear it, although I expect you would be guided by me in this matter.”

“Henceforth I must be directed by you in all things?”

Hugh felt his temper surge again. “That is the way of the world. I was ruled by my father as he was by his.”

“If I recall, my grandfather did not want you to go to Outremer on crusade. You insisted and went. He wished you had married, as the eldest son must, and you have chosen to ignore this virtuous path and swyve whores. My grandfather showed his love for you by letting you do as you wished. Thus I conclude that you love me less since you demand I follow your commands without asking me if I concur.”

“What do you want that I am not offering?” Hugh now lost control of his passions and slammed his hand down on the table. The ewer overturned, knocking the masers to the floor. The wine seeped into the rushes, leaving a large dark stain.

Richard stepped so close to his father that they could smell the sharp odor of anger in each other’s breath. “I want to take vows, father. I want to become a priest.”

Hugh staggered back.

“Father Eliduc has been teaching me what I must know to do so and wishes me to enter the service of the new Archbishop of Canterbury. Are you so blasphemous that you would dare deny that such a position brings great honor to the family? My aunt has done so as prioress of Tyndal and many say she has been blessed by the Virgin with a vision. Has she not brought honor to the family? Dare you deny what God’s service brings to our souls?” He knelt. “Prove your love for me, as my grandfather proved his love for you. You longed to win Jerusalem back from the Infidel. Grant my plea to become a priest so that I may save souls.”

The pounding in Hugh’s ears grew as loud as the crash of rocks flung by trebuchets against castle walls. His eyes lost focus, and he blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision of the blood red haze. Reaching behind him, Hugh braced himself against the stone wall and tried to breathe. But the wall felt about to crumble and bury him in dust and sharp rock. He gasped as if the dust was already choking him, and he began to hear the screams of men buried in rubble around him.

“I wait for your response, my lord.”

Hugh shook his head, and the visions from Hell retreated. Opening his eyes wide, he looked down at his kneeling son and saw a callow, self-righteous youth who smugly dared to condemn him like so many other ignorant men who pointed fingers at others while breaking God’s commandments themselves.

“Never,” he hissed.

“I would rather hang than become a man like you, drinking blood like wine and reeking of impious lusts like a goat.” Richard shouted. “You are evil!”

Hugh spun around and strode to the door. As he put his hand against the wood, he turned and looked again at the son he no longer recognized.

“Then hang,” he said and disappeared out the door.