Sir Godefroy asks an audience
Sigefrith had been surprised to hear that Sir Godefroy had come without Britmar, Baldwin, or even Leofric. He and Malcolm liked to joke that it was a wonder Sir Godefroy could make it as far as the bedroom door in the morning without someone to follow. He always seemed to be in somebody’s train.
Moreover, he had requested an audience with the King, which must have seemed a great presumption to the man. Sigefrith thought that the matter must be important; no one took his title of King as seriously as did Sir Godefroy – not even Sigefrith himself.
Once they had the kneeling and the bowing and the compliments out of the way, and once Sigefrith had maneuvered Godefroy into a chair that – to Godefroy’s apparent dismay – was at precisely the same height as his own, Sigefrith said to him, “I can only suppose you have at last found something interesting to say to me, since you have never dared beg an audience of me before, and I think it is because you must have heard what I do to men who bore me.”
Godefroy blinked at him, aghast.
Sigefrith laughed his booming laugh, which was infectious enough to at least provide Godefroy with a smile.
“Unless you are come to take your leave of me,” Sigefrith said, “we must get to work on your sense of humor.”
“No, I am not…”
“Excellent! I am pleased to hear it. Though I suppose you will not long tarry. It is a long way back to Flanders. Cenwulf is leaving for Saxony at the beginning of May, and you might go in his company, if the time suits you. He’s taking his boy.”
Godefroy hesitated. “Do you wish me to leave?”
“Certainly not. The last thing I want to do is chase knights out of my kingdom, unless they be of the Norman sort. But I had thought you came only to guarantee the safety of your niece and her daughters?”
“So I did. But now I should like to stay, if I may.”
“Is that so?”
Sigefrith cursed himself for not having considered the possibility. Now he would be called upon to make a decision without time for reflection. Fortunately neither he nor Malcolm had detected anything to dislike in the man, aside from his apparent need for a leader. Even that could be considered an advantage in certain situations.
“May you?” Sigefrith asked him. “Have you no home? No lord?”
“It is Judith’s granduncle the Count of Flanders who knighted me. But I have no lord. My wife is dead. I have made a home with my brother since.”
“Have you spoken to Britmar? Or perhaps to Leofric?”
“I wished to speak to you, sire.”
“Why?”
The man’s courage seemed to be creaking under the weight of his presumption, but he spoke. “I do not wish to call Lord Leofric or Lord Britmar my lord.”
“They are good men.”
“I know it.”
Sigefrith stared at him, and Godefroy did not drop his eyes.
“I offer my knights five hides of good land as their fee,” Sigefrith said, “and more if they can find men to farm it. What do you offer me?”
“I am not yet an old man, and you have seen me fight on horseback and on foot. And I presume to say I have been a good and loyal knight, sire.”
“To men who paid you.”
“You offer a generous fee. But it is not for this.”
“I would not blame you if it were, provided you remained loyal to me in the face of men who offer you more. You realize I shall have a fine time explaining this to the Baron, who thinks that any man who knows a little French is a Norman.”
“I am no Norman.”
“I know it.”
Sigefrith picked up the scruffy piece of parchment that would serve as his map of the valley until it had been totally obscured by his notes and scribblings.
“Pull up your chair. I think you will wish to stay close to your friends, but you know that Brit is building in the hills across from Raegiming, whereas Baldwin is going into the ancient fort all the way on the other side over here, to finally put some obstacle in the northwest entry to the valley. And just in time, I should say,” he muttered to himself, “since Godred Whitehand would no doubt attack from that direction.”
“I know…”
“Would you rather be near Brit or Leofric or Baldwin? Or nearer to me, though I’m not certain your eyes could long bear the brilliance of my radiant Majesty.”
“Nearer to Lord Leofric, if I may decide. But not upon his lands.”
“There isn’t much out that way. Not until Brit gets a mill built, anyway. If you want to build your own, I can put you where the stream coming down from Thorhold joins the river. I’ve been longing to put somebody there.”
“How far to Raegiming?”
“To the castle? About an hour and a half. Same distance to Britmar, and a little over an hour to ride as far as Brede’s manor. You see why no one wants to live there. I don’t have any hermit-knights, except for Sir Egelric, who is already well-hidden. But once someone is there, perhaps we can get someone to join him, eh?”
“How fast on a fast horse to Raegiming?”
“Less,” Sigefrith shrugged. “I’ve never started from halfway. Remember it’s uphill at the end. But in my experience, men are usually more interested in running away from Leofric than running towards him, so that will play to your advantage,” he winked.
Godefroy stared at the parchment for a long while, though Sigefrith thought it was more to give him a place to rest his eyes than to help him to decide, since even Cenwulf had long since lost the ability to decipher Sigefrith’s latest map.
“If it would be a service to Your Majesty to have a man there, then I shall go there,” he said finally.
Sigefrith admitted himself surprised, since it would place Godefroy at least an hour from the closest person that he might follow.
“There’s no hurry. Why don’t we ride out there tomorrow?” Sigefrith proposed. “I’ve been wanting to get out to Raegiming and make faces at my father-in-law for some time now.”
Sir Godefroy nodded thoughtfully and did not lift his eyes from the map. Sigefrith decided he would take Malcolm with him tomorrow. Clearly he did not know the man well enough.
