Roselynde (17 page)

"All great men have enemies, and because he is incorruptible
William Marshal has more than most—not decent men, for all decent men respect
him, but sly, sneaking creatures. If some of them knew he— Isobel, you will not
speak of this?"

The war between needs was clear in Isobel of Clare's face. If it
was something she should not speak of, it was also something she should not
hear. But it concerned William, and— "It is not my way to repeat things I
am told in confidence."

She does care for him, Alinor thought. Well then, let her stand up
and demand what she desires. "It is not my way to repeat such things
either, but this is something I think you have a need and a right to know.
Thus, it has been upon my mind so much that my tongue wagged. William's ribs
were crushed on his way back to free the Queen. He wears a brave front, but the
truth is that he cannot dance or ride. He can barely walk, and it hurts him to
talk much."

"Oh, my God! What is he doing out of his bed at all?"

Never afraid to gild the lily in a good cause, Alinor replied
promptly, "He comes to speak with you and, when you neglect him to dance
with others, to look at you."

Color flamed in Isobel's face, replacing the pallor fright had
given her. "That is unkind, Alinor. I did not think you would use me as
Isobel does. Since William has the promise of my lands, he does not need to
dance with me or talk to me any more."

Alinor's eyes grew large as she saw the clever way Isobel was
being manipulated. First make it clear that William wanted only her estates;
then tell her that the new King had not agreed to her betrothal and that she
was free to choose elsewhere; then praise Baldwin and point out that he was
rich already and had no need for her lands. That was a flat lie; Baldwin was
richer than William, but he was also far, far more expensive in his way of life.
Isobel, however, would never think of that. Still, the combination of lies with
Isobel's habit of obedience to authority would have brought her to comply with
Lord Richard's desire that his friend have use of her. Not if I can help it,
Alinor thought.

"Oh, Isobel, you know that is not true, I myself have seen
him trying to talk with you, and you cutting him off to dance with some silly
stripling. And I have seen his eyes follow you."

"But why did he not tell me he could not dance? Why did he
not even say, 'Stay, Isobel'?"

"Because," Alinor said, laughing heartily as Simon's
behavior as well as William's became clear to her, "he is an honorable
man. He did not wish to worry you or make you think him a weakling who wept
over every bruise. And—Isobel, I am going to speak what could bring me, and
Simon, and William, too, harsh punishment—"

"Oh," Isobel began.

This time Alinor had no intention of allowing Isobel to avoid
knowledge she did not want; she hurried on, ignoring Isobel's protest.
"There is another contender for your hand, and if you do not believe, and
say openly for all the Court to understand, that you are committed to William,
Baldwin of

Bethune will have you." She saw from the way Isobel's eyes
slid aside that this was not news to her. "There is your second reason for
William's reserve. He is much afeared that, should he make you love him and
then should the King command your obedience to take Baldwin, you would be
unhappy."

"I wish I could believe you," Isobel cried, wringing her
hands. "I wish I knew what to believe."

"I know nothing of Baldwin of Bethune, except that Simon, who
has treated me with great honor and honesty, looks aside when he speaks of
Baldwin so that I should not see in his eyes what he thinks. I know William
Marshal's reputation and I know also that even those who spit when they say his
name admit he is a man of honor and does not lie. You do not need to believe
me. Forego a single dance tonight and stand beside William and ask him in plain
words if what I say is true."

Then as a reward for her good deed, Alinor was summoned to the
Queen before she needed to listen to any more of Isobel's waverings. Here
matters went with unusual smoothness. Although Alinor was sure she would not be
punished severely, she had expected a real scolding. Simon must have been
unusually persuasive to convince the Queen to be so mild. All she did was
remind Alinor that it was she who had rejected the idea of marriage and point
out the danger and foolishness of her behavior.

"You are not really foolish, Alinor," the Queen
concluded. "Why have you misbehaved yourself?"

"The Devil breeds work for idle ones," Alinor responded
with a sigh. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I will amend my ways, but—but you
had better send me back to Roselynde."

"Send you back?" the Queen's voice was devoid of
expression, but a variety of suspicions pricked her. The last place she would
send Alinor was to her own estate. At the moment she could have murdered the
girl for adding another problem to her overburdened mind. "Are my other maidens
unkind to you?" she asked, choosing the least likely cause of
dissatisfaction she could as a bait for Alinor to talk. Not that it was
unlikely that Isobel of Gloucester and the group that licked her feet would be
as nasty as possible, but the Queen did not believe Alinor would care a pin for
that.

"Oh, no," Alinor replied, "but you see, Madam, they
are
really
great ladies and are accustomed to being idle all day. They
have ways to fill the long hours. I am accustomed to being
at
something
from dawn to dark. At home I have maids to oversee, justice to listen to, farms
and ships to inspect, accounts to keep, letters of instruction to write to my
vassals. Madam, I beg your pardon for my seeming ingratitude, indeed I do, but
I am being driven mad by boredom. I must have something to
do."

"My poor dear child," the Queen exclaimed, all suspicion
totally swamped by a huge upsurge of sympathy. Had Queen Alinor herself not
nearly become insane in those first horrible months of imprisonment? She had
not been locked in a cell nor misused. She had had just about as much freedom
as Alinor now had. In fact, although she had learned to fill the long hours
and, in addition, developed an excellent news-gathering service, to the last
day of her imprisonment she had been racked with ennui.

"Poor child," the Queen repeated. "I had no idea
you would be bored. But I cannot permit you to leave before the King comes. You
must give your fealty to him directly. Moreover, I know Simon would deem it his
duty to go with you and Simon must be here when Richard comes. You see, Simon
served Richard as a kind of mentor—a guide and a guard— when Richard was very
young, and there were sometimes differences between them because on occasion
Richard is more daring than sensible. You know, for love of me Simon has not
had his just deserts. It is most needful that Richard come to know Simon as a
man knows a man, rather than as a boy knows a tutor, before I die."

"Sir Simon has been kind to me," Alinor answered
quietly, dropping her eyes to hide the extreme interest she had in the Queen's
last remarks. "I would not wish to interfere with his advancement, but—
Well, I will try not to get into trouble."

"You should ride out more," the Queen suggested.

"With whom?" Alinor flashed. "And for what purpose?
To see the fairings? Madam, into Roselynde harbor come the great ships of all
the world, even from far Cathay. I have seen the silks and tasted the spices
before they came to London Market. What is there to amuse me in this?"

The sharp bitterness not only started a new upsurge of sympathy
but awakened a sense of caution. Alinor would have to be kept in London, but
she would have to be kept occupied. Desperately Queen Alinor asked, "Would
you like to learn to read and write as I do?"

To her surprise, the girl drew herself up. "Madam, I am not a
child. I have read and written since I was nine."

"You have? I had no idea. Oh." The Queen hesitated, even
more deeply disturbed, studying Alinor's dissatisfied face.

The child was dangerous only because she was bored. Alinor could
have no wide political purpose, but she might make mischief just out of
desperation. It would be best for her to be directly under my eye, the Queen
thought. Others are deceived by that look of youthful innocence, but there is a
devil of determination under it. She repressed a smile as she remembered
Simon's distress when he asked her to speak to Alinor. He thought of her as a
wayward child better handled by a woman. Then she allowed the smile to flower.
She would keep Alinor busy in right earnest.

"Alinor, how would you like to serve as a scribe to me?"

"Your scribe? Oh, Madam, I would but—but I have no Latin. I
deeply regret it, but—"

"No Latin is needed. If you write a fair hand in French, it
will be sufficient."

The plan had worked. It had worked far better than Alinor had
dreamed it would. Impulsively she knelt and kissed the Queen's hand.
"Madam, I thank you. I thank you, Your Grace. You have saved me from that
terrible black cloud that was wrapping me round. I will serve you faithfully.
Indeed, I will."

"The labor will be long and hard. You will have no time to
dally with gallants," the Queen teased.

"Pooh to gallants," Alinor exclaimed, and then chuckled.
"Nay, I will have time enough. You always come to the evening
entertainments. I can make merry then."

In fact it was not so easy as it sounded. For the Queen to tell
Alinor what to write took no long time. For Alinor to make the several copies
that were needed, however, took far longer than Alinor realized it would. As
she labored, she gave an apologetic thought to her own scribes, whom she had
more than once reviled for dilatoriness. The letters she wrote often made up
for her cramped hand and back, however. Naturally, Alinor was not employed on
any state business. What she wrote were the Queen's personal letters to her
daughters, to vassals' wives, to the abbesses and abbots of religious houses.
Nonetheless, all the letters contained news and, besides, nothing the Queen
said or did was entirely without some political purpose.

Alinor was a little surprised at some of the things the Queen had
her write—usually when she was abed and all the attendants had been dismissed.
These tidbits seemed very private indeed and were often so short that the Queen
could have added them herself without much labor. True, they were not matters
that could overset realms, but they could overset reputations and, in a few
cases, alter the line of inheritance in certain families. True to her promise
to herself, Alinor never breathed a hint of these tasty tidbits of information
to anyone.

It was not that she was not asked. Suddenly she found herself
Isobel of Gloucester's bosom companion and a pivot around which that lady's
sycophants whirled. Alinor had too much sense to make herself important or
mysterious by saying she could not tell or refusing flatly to answer the sly
questions Isobel put to her. She spoke very readily of the Queen's personal
account books and how carefully every pair of gloves and stockings were
recorded therein. She did not fail to quote the pious passages of letters to
abbesses. She was fulsomely informative about the health and welfare of the
Queen's grandchildren. She talked more than Isobel herself— and said even less.

Simon saw a little too late what he had been maneuvered into
arranging by being told to complain of Alinor to the Queen. Walking in the
walled garden, deep in the scent of lilies, which he still associated with
Alinor, he had told her what he thought of her. That time they had not
quarreled. While he raged, Alinor had seized one of his balled fists and kissed
the clenched fingers. Like a man palsied, Simon's voice had checked midword.

"I will serve the Queen honestly and faithfully, Simon. I
will not betray her to anyone by word or deed—only to save you or myself, and I
think I need not fear that, for she loves us both and will strive only to help
us. I will not even betray to you what she intends toward William Marshal, for
good or ill."

That was a beautiful touch, Alinor thought, seeing the trouble
lessen in Simon's eyes. It was perfectly safe, too, because Isobel had asked
her questions and had some most satisfactory answers from William. Isobel would
manage very well on her own, Alinor realized. She was not nearly so timid or
helpless as she looked when she had a clear object to strive toward. Isobel
would not openly contest the Queen's will, but she was rapidly making it
impossible for anyone to believe she would marry any man except William Marshal
unless she were dragged unconscious to the altar. Each night, Isobel stood beside
her chosen spouse. If the Queen told her to dance with another, she obeyed; as
soon as the dance was over, she hurried back to William.

A week passed. In the middle of the second week of Alinor's
service, the Queen informed her eldest daughter in a private postscript that
they would move on August 8 to Winchester where they would await the daily
expected arrival of Lord Richard. Alinor nearly choked on holding her tongue
for the next two days, not only because this was far more interesting news than
salacious gossip but also because she knew the Queen's habit of announcing
moves only hours before leaving and letting everyone scramble to get ready.
Nonetheless, Alinor refrained from warning her men or even from telling her
maid to begin packing.