SirenSong by Roberta Gellis Page B

to avoid a formal betrothal or even a
formal promise. Mauger had never really dared to press too hard. He disliked
William intensely. Under the smooth and courteous exterior, William was rock
hard, and he had a sickening sense of honor. For all the heat of his looks and
in spite of being insinuated into various private and even intimate situations
with Elizabeth, he had never said a word or made a gesture to which the most
jealous husband could take exception.
    As he sat down by the hearth again, Mauger actually licked
his lips. That was over. Something had happened between William and Elizabeth.
He was not sure what or how far it had gone, but the easy rapport between them
had been destroyed. Where previously their eyes had met often, even when their
remarks were addressed to others, this time neither had looked at the other.
Mauger was sorry now that he had given Emma such a beating for her presumption.
She had done him a good turn.
    All his plans were working now. Mauger was so excited that
he could not sit still and had to get up and pace the hall. The tale he had
paid Theobald of Hurley to tell the king had had far more direct results than
he expected. The abbey at Hurley, to which Mauger owed knight service, was
corrupt and rotten all through. That was all to the good. It made the abbot
very willing to do Mauger a good turn whenever he could so that Mauger would be
disinclined to complain about the behavior of the monks among his serf women
and in other ways. Thus, when one of their number had been selected to serve
the king, the abbot had sent him to Mauger to ask if there was any little
service he could do.
    Mauger was aware that William was vassal to Richard of
Cornwall and that he was often in service with his lord. He was not aware of
how close the bond between them was because William never mentioned it. Since
it would never have entered Mauger’s mind to be so restrained—if he had an earl
for a friend, he would have screamed it aloud every moment—Mauger assumed the
relationship between William and his overlord was formal. All he had expected
Theobald’s story to do was to raise suspicions against William’s character that
would reduce any sense of surprise or outrage in his overlord when he was
murdered for tampering with another man’s wife.
    It had never occurred to Mauger that the king would take
Theobald’s story so seriously, but then, he did not know exactly what tale
Theobald had told, aside from the fact that it must show William as treacherous
and dishonorable. Actually, most of the details had been owing to Henry
himself, who had, by his questions, directed Theobald’s quick mind into the
suggestions that would most disturb and infuriate the king. All Mauger knew was
that the knight in William’s household must be a spy, and he chortled with joy.
There would be plenty of material to gather—plenty. Probably William would
follow his advice and try to keep the most innocent things secret from the spy,
that would make the fellow suspicious. Then, too, William was not by nature
secretive or mealy-mouthed. Surely he would forget himself and say something to
criticize the king.
    Mauger’s pacing stopped suddenly. Had his warning to William
been strong enough? He went back to his seat beside the fire to consider the
various ramifications of William’s behavior. Mauger wanted the spy to report
that William was disloyal in intention, but he did not want the king to be so
convinced that he would disseisen William. That way Alys would not inherit and
Mauger could not hold the lands through her. It would be useful to have the
betrothal made formal—Mauger intended, now that matters had changed between
William and Elizabeth, to make another effort in that direction—but it was not
essential. After William was dead he could simply seize the girl. No one would
care, and he had witnesses enough that the marriage had been discussed and even
approved by the girl’s father.
    What was necessary was to keep