Chapter 7

At the castle, the reunion of daughter and father was emotional. It seemed that the hard, crusty, duke had a soft side, one that came to the fore for his daughter. He invited Robert to join them for a small banquet. Lady Harriet insisted on him sitting on her left (she being on the left of her father of course). Michael sat on the other side, one arm of his tunic pinned up. A servant cut the food into bite-sized chunks.

“So, you see how we are fixed? My poor son.” said Sizewell across his daughter, to Robert.

“How so?”

“He has only one arm.”

“Yes sir. I know. But a man can rule with one arm, surely.”

“But he cannot fight!”

“He has done that already. Sir, if I may. You should add the arm to your crest. Willing to sacrifice an arm for the lands you hold. It is a bold, brave action, I think.”

The duke looked long and hard at Robert, then at his son. “Father? What ails you?”

“Nothing my boy, nothing. I have just been set right by a common oik. I have just been given sounder advice than all my well-bred advisors. Fuck Me! Oh, sorry my daughter! But YES! I want an arm over our shield. An arm holding a sword. I want a motto, oh, umm ‘Always armed’ Yes! That’s good, well maybe. We’ll have a think. You have shown how hard this family will hold on to its lands. Michael, learn to fight left handed, you will need to when you rule here.

Robert, oh, I called you common? Sorry, no offence meant. You turn disaster on its head. You can do me another favour, tomorrow Kator and two advisors go to negotiate for the release of my wife and daughter.

If they have harmed them, I will not rest until the whole line is extinguished. But if I can negotiate them back then well and good.

Go with them. I could do with a soldier’s eye view of the situation. Can I believe their promises?”

“You want me to go on a diplomatic mission? I am a simple soldier.”

“Who showed me how my son losing his arm is a form of victory. Yes, go, I will not insist, you may be tired. But if you would, I would be grateful.”

You do not turn down a request from the most powerful man in the region. Even if he was falling asleep in the saddle and had piles, he would have gone. Anyway, refusal would have probably been taken as an insult. He excused himself later, he had an early start in the morning.

In his chamber, he sensed a person. Something was not right. He quietly drew his knife and was about to leap when a voice said “Stop messing about. I’ve been horny since you found Harriet, I mean Lady Harriet, seeing to me. I can’t stand it any longer. Come on.”

“Would your hand not help?”

“Although I’ve renounced, the Abbess has to sign the papers. Meanwhile, I am in the novices hall. I can’t make any noise. Come on! Prick that boil before I go mental.”

“You heard the joke about the novice who got the instruction to prick a boil round the wrong way.”

“Of course I have! The nuns made it up! Come on, look!” it was true, her legs were open, her lips engorged, she had her shift around her waist. She just wanted a good fucking, immediately. He was far to polite to refuse.

The next day a servant brought water for washing and small beer and bread. She brought enough for two. Nothing stays secret in castles long.

The journey would take a week or more, they had to travel with protection (10 knights) and support (10 servants) and clerks (5); it all slowed down the travelling. The real diplomats were not used to slumming it, they were used to good food and good beds. Robert found himself naturally drawn to the knights, two in particular, who were less snobbish about his low class. They were impatient to travel faster too; the clerks curried favour with the diplomats where they could, as was natural. They made little effort to gain Robert’s approval, which was a mistake, given how high a regard he was held in by the duke. The servants treated all 4 negotiators equally.

Kator saw Robert as a risk; it was clear that Duke Sizewell had taken a shine to him. The question for Kator was whether to ride on his coat tails (and jump off when Robert’s star burnt out, which it was bound to do) or seek to undermine him (and hasten the moment of his departure). It was a conundrum that exercised his mind more than what to say to the earl’s negotiators.

On arrival, they were treated well enough. The earl had won one battle and lost the next; essentially they were back where they started, except that he had two hostages. To the standard negotiators, this was an upper hand; Robert saw it differently. He had worked with military types before; true military types. In his mind, he likened the diplomats (and the earl) to dogs. Beat them and they will become even more obsequious and servile. Duke Sizewell was a cat. A cat is independent and cannot be expected to follow the pack rules. If you grab a cat by its tail, you had better be ready for the claws to come round. The earl had Sizewell by the tail and didn’t realise his danger. Tread the wrong way and an enemy that might forgive and forget, especially if the king orders it, would become someone with a memory that will live forever and will have revenge, whatever the king thinks.

Robert simply sat and listened as the interminable to and fro of debate continued for days. He asked to see the duchess and her daughter to ensure they were well treated. The diplomats like Kator did not wish to offend by suggesting they might not be well treated. Although not able to see them alone, it seemed that they were comfortable. He was able to loudly inform the duchess that her son was a hero, soon to be feted throughout the land. Her daughter had wondered if the one-armed son might renounce and let her become duchess in her own right, but that was not apparently going to happen.

Five days of talks finally resulted in some kind of potential agreement, the earl would be given Povansay, a castle and town that stuck into the earl’s lands like a promontory; it stood on a bluff above a bend in the river and had proved itself easy to defend several times, now it was to be simply passed over.

“So, when the ink is dry, and the charter renouncing Povansay is approved by the king, then the duchess and lady will be released.” the earl smiled happily; the diplomats nodded agreement. “You! Silent man who has sat in all the discussions and said nothing. What do you say? Is it a good deal?Will it pass?”

“You benefit. If you are happy then that is good. My lord the duke is a man of his word. He appointed Sir Kator to act in his stead, so whatever is agreed with him is agreed with Lord Sizewell. But, the Duke is a vengeful, difficult and dangerous man to cross. Since he is a man of his word, you will get your town and castle. That being so, it would sooth his breast if you showed you trusted him and released his wife and daughter now. If you do not, he will not forget.” It was blunt, undiplomatic and yet quite possibly true. Kator would never have expressed himself so brusquely. Kator was looking concerned; it was clear to the earl that this was not part of an elaborate diplomatic manoeuvre; this rough spoken man was just what he said he was – a soldier who spoke his mind when asked.