CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Fawkes de Breauté glared at his fellow-mercenary Savary de Mauléon. Even a casual glance at the two could surmise that Fawkes was the more ruthless, the more grasping of the two. There was a hard flinty self-seeking shiftiness in the eyes. Confront this man and expect total aggression, beg mercy and expect none, show kindness and expect to see it repulsed. An efficient practitioner of his craft was this man, although not as capable as de Mauléon some said. Nevertheless de Breauté was a proficient, self-publicist - he would seemingly nearly always achieve what he set-out to attain.

“We can not make any exception at all” barked de Breauté. “Treachery is treachery and that is an end to it.”

“Tush man” grimaced de Mauléon. “We are talking about a minor disruption, something that was undertaken in the heat of the moment. I suggest we let everything blow over.”

“Indeed” snarled his rival “Your own part in this distasteful business leaves a lot to be desired. Why, God, man you would have kept quiet about it all only for reliable and loyal subjects reporting back from Corfe.”

“I am ever the practical one” half-smiled Savary “My loyalty to the new King is as rock-solid as my fidelity to his father. I was with John in his last campaigns, my tenacity of purpose was never disputed.”

“And yet you brush-over the matter of the Lady Eleanor and this up-start young squire de Buissant.”

“I had Sir Guy and the Lady Eleanor placed under close confinement by Rolf de Claimont and his men. Sir Simon of Norwich was closely involved as indeed was the Lady Athelfreda. The matter was effectively dealt with. Why, de Breauté, both Guy and Eleanor were of great use to John Lackland in his life-time. I am sure that when they consider, in the light of experience, they will see a similar role during the life- time of the son and heir.”

“Fine start they have made to the new reign. Even to the point of seeking to secure the crown for Lady Eleanor herself. What had they in mind for young Henry I wonder?”

“Nothing as vicious as John perpetrated on Arthur, Eleanor’s brother. As for Sir Guy I know him as a brave and gracious knight, kindness and forbearance are an essential part of his nature.”

“My decision is that Eleanor and Guy are traitors and deserve the requisite punishment” snapped de Breauté.

“And who will carry-out that order?” sneered Savary “My Poitevans are a match for your Fleming scum any day. In addition when Hubert de Burgh manages to shake-off the French round Dover he will support my views. As for the Marshal why his grey hairs would quail with indignation if he knows of your harsh plans.”

“I have been named in John’s will as one of his Chief executors” snarled Fawkes.

“So have I” growled Savary “Cross me and you will find me an implacable enemy.”

“As the Lady Eleanor found you a most acceptable friend, particularly in her boudoir” gloated de Breauté.

“Is that praise or condemnation?” queried Savary.

“You will find-out soon enough” responded Fawkes drawing his sword and making a savage lunge at his adversary. They were alone in this particular part of the castle but such was the intensity between the two men that the ensuing confrontation was inevitable even if they had been in a crowded market-place.

“By the time I’ve finished with you” resumed de Breauté “Eleanor will find you of little use in her amours, a very truncated lover you will be.”

“Save your breath for your fighting” almost spat-out de Mauléon feinting to the right and then bringing his sword fiercely against that of his rival. The two warriors were fairly evenly matched but Savary had a lithness about him, an agility on his feet which as the contest advanced seemed to give him a narrow yet gradually widening advantage.

Savary tried-out a number of subtle improvisations seeking to keep his opponent perpetually on his guard. Fawkes was strong and active but somewhat lacking in imagination. As time progressed de Mauléon detected a bead-line of glistening sweat appear across de Breauté‘s brow. Perhaps the arrogant mercenary
chief was not quite as fit as he purported to be. The sword thrusts of the Fleming became more and more laboured and what inspiration he seemed to have at the commencement of hostilities was almost exhausted. De Breauté suddenly twisted his face in some pain and shrank back. Savory was too old a campaigner to be taken in by this trick, some subterfuge no doubt. The Poitevan was right and kept a cool head as Fawkes roared back into action intention on one last desperate thrust.

“Damn you de Mauléon you are taxing my patience to the end.”

“Your end, Fleming dog,” smirked Savary “Have you had enough of this yet?”

De Breauté had scarce enough breath left to respond. One last savage throw, perhaps. He swung his sword, grasped two-handed hard downwards towards de Mauléon. The effort took him off-balance, and his adversary skipping aside adroitly pointed his weapon directly at his fallen enemy.

“This is madness de Mauléon I will never submit” barked de Breauté. “This is a victory not worth the winning.”

“What victory is this? Come gentlemen what is this foolish escapade about? I come hot foot from Dover I find you both at each other’s throats, trusted followers of the King.”

De Mauléon recognised the voice instantly without taking his eyes off his reclining opponent slumped heavily on the floor.

“By all the saints Hubert de Burgh. My God, I believed you to be in Dover.”

“Indeed” responded de Burgh. “The scurvy French want to advance up to the Midlands and have concluded a truce with me. This has enabled me to come here to Bristol and attend the Nation’s Council. After all I am still, technically, Chief Justiciar of the realm.”

“Your services will be in great demand” responded de Mauléon. “England is in need of cool heads and quick and active minds”

“Indeed?” queried de Burgh “I had often associated such qualities with yourself, Savary. Unfortunately you seem to have temporarily taken leave of your senses. What is the meaning of this contra temps with de Breauté here? I had thought of you both as staunch allies, united in a common purpose.”

“Tis but a foolish piece of business” shrugged de Mauléon “Fawkes and I
were arguing over the .....”

“Qualities of a woman of our acquaintance” completed the fallen de Breauté “I am willing to let bye-gones be bye-gones if Savary is also so inclined.”

“Indeed!” smiled de Mauléon. “Here on your feet you Fleming rascal grasp my hand and let us talk no more of the matter.”

De Breauté rose to his feet and slapped Savary heavily on the shoulder. There was a flintiness, a fixed and resolute manner that brooked ill for the future. This was a man to beware of.

“And now to more important matters” resumed de Burgh “I was pleased to learn that William Marshal is to be Regent to the young King. There is a worthy man who inspite of his years will bring nothing but honour to his rule.”

“Indeed” interjected de Mauléon. “It took some persuading to show the good Earl that he was much needed as the King’s chief pillar and support. You know how he always insists on his so-called great age as a hindrance to his taking-up offices of state.”

“Why the man is over-modest” snorted de Burgh “He is still capable of cracking a few-heads together as well as providing sound and sane advice to the advantage of the Nation.”

“Well at last he concurred with the general opinion, I can still see him now as he drew himself up to his full height, straight-backed and defiant. ‘By God’s glove!’ he cried ‘The advice is good and true. If all should abandon us, I would carry the King on my shoulders, one leg here ad one in Ireland. I would carry him from land to land and I would not fail him ever!”

“Such a noble man is worthy of support, we all need to get firmly behind him in the name of Henry III.” Fawkes de Breauté added the statement with emphasis on the name of the youthful monarch.

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