Hugh received the news with the mild regret natural to one whohad barely known the man, and whose duties were unlikely to becomplicated by any closer contact with the death. There was anheir, and no second son to cloud the issue of inheritance,certainly no need to interfere with the smooth succession. TheLudels were Stephen’s men, and loyal, even if the newincumbent was hardly likely to take arms for his king for manyyears to come, being, Hugh recalled, about ten years old. The boywas in school at the abbey, placed there by his father when themother died, most likely, so rumour said, to get him out of thehands of a domineering grandmother, rather than simply to ensurethat he learned his letters.

It seemed, therefore, that the abbey, if not the castle, hadsome unenviable responsibility in the matter, for someone wouldhave to tell young Richard that his father was dead. The funeralrites would not fall to the abbey, Eaton having its own church andparish priest, but the custody of the heir was a matter ofimportance. And as for me, thought Hugh, I had better make certainhow competent a steward Ludel has left to manage the boy’sestate, while he’s not yet of age to manage it himself.

“You have not taken this word to the lord abbotyet?” he asked the groom who had brought the message.

“No, my lord, I came first to you.”

“And have you orders from the lady to speak with the heirhimself?”

“No, my lord, and would as soon leave that to those whohave the daily care of him.”

“You may well be right there,” Hugh agreed.“I’ll go myself and speak with Abbot Radulfus.He’ll know best how to deal. As to the succession, DameDionisia need have no concern, the boy’s title is secureenough.”

In times full of trouble, with cousins contending bitterly forthe throne, and opportunist lords changing their coats according tothe pendulum fortunes of this desultory war, Hugh was only too glad