Free The Conqueror by Georgette Heyer Page B

they streamed into Rouen, hounds straining at the leash, a leash held taut between a young man’s fingers.
    ‘Not bad, not bad!’ Hubert de Harcourt grunted, watching William de Warenne ride into the town at the head of his men. ‘But for every man of ours I’ll be bound the Viscount of Côtentin has two.’ He shook his head, glooming. ‘Do you see the Lords of Moyon and Magneville? Do you see Drogon de Manceaux, or Gilbert Montfiquet? Where are the Lords of Cahagnes and Asnières? What word comes from Tournières? Where is Saint-Sever? Where is Walter de Lacy? We shall pit our might against theirs on the day appointed. You will not see them before, by my head!’
    Feeling ran high against Grimbauld the traitor. The little loyal band of men who had followed the Duke to Valognes had rejoined him at Rouen, hot for revenge on the villain who had drugged them.
    Beside William, Count Robert and Hugh de Gournay advised, but he outstripped them. A demon of energy seemed to possess him; they panted behind him in the spirit even as Raoul panted in the body. Boy followed boy now in right earnest. In a night, the night of a wild ride, a queer bond of amity had sprung up between the Duke and the youngest of his knights. Raoul rode behind William, slept at his door, attended him to his council, even carried his gonfanon when he galloped down the lines of his troops. Men lifted their brows; some sneered; some looked jealously, but he cared nothing for that while the Duke’s imperative voice called a dozen times in a day: ‘Raoul!’
    His father was puffed up with pride in the favour shown to his youngest born, and could not at all understand how it was that Raoul himself showed no signs of a reasonable conceit. That Raoul had no ambition beyond his burning desire to serve the Duke was a matter of astonishment to him, and some misgiving. Respect for William he could comprehend now that he had seen the Duke at work, but that Raoul should lay his boy’s heart with all its hoarded store of dreams at William’s feet seemed to him a strange unwholesome business. He frowned over it, and growled: ‘Sacred Face! lads were made of sterner stuff in my day!’
    The ducal army rode westwards to meet the French, passing Pont Audémer on the Risle, and crossing the Touque at Pont l’Evêque. Here and at other points along the march they were joined by reinforcements led by the barons from outlying districts. From day to day the Duke’s scouts brought him word of the French King’s advance. He had crossed the Frontier at Verneuil at the head of his levies, and marched to Hiesmes by way of Echaufour, and was on his way north through Auge to meet the Duke at Valmérie, a league to the south of Argences, and hard by the camp of the rebels on the plain of Val-es-dunes.
    William crossed the Méance at the ford of Berengier, north of Val-es-dunes. Not a baron in his army but had his gonfanonier at his side. Gonfanons and knights’ pennons stretched out in the breeze, a medley of proud colours led by the gold lions that waved over William’s head. The poor folk crowded out of Argences to watch the host ride by. There were open mouths and round eyes, and men nudged one another, and whispered: ‘There he rides! That is the Duke, he on the black destrier. Jesu! but he looks older than his years!’
    A girl’s voice cried shrilly: ‘God aid, beau sire! Death to your grace’s enemies!’
    There was a cheer, a shout of ‘God aid! God aid!’ The Duke rode by looking straight between Malet’s ears.
    The French had heard Mass at Valmérie at daybreak, and marched out to Val-es-dunes, where the rebel army was drawn up along the bank of the Méance. Over the high ground at Argences rode the ducal troops, and saw at their feet the plain of Val-es-dunes, without hill or valley or wood, sloping gently to the east in wind-swept bareness.
    ‘A fine place for fighting,’ remarked Count Robert, riding abreast of William. ‘Néel has chosen his ground