Roselynde (38 page)

"But we did not drown. And had I not been stubborn, you would
certainly have drowned alone."

"I do not think it, but that is neither here nor there in
this case. If you are modestly silent now, you will be free to obtain the Queen's
help and to support Sir Andre with advice, and perhaps to help me. Do not look
so black. I do not believe the King will dare deny me. Too many of the men
assembled have royal grants of one kind or another and many of them are going
with the King on Crusade. They will need to appoint deputies. If my deputy is
to be displaced, what surety do they have that theirs will not also be
displaced? There may be some harsh words said, which is another reason I warn
you to be silent, but in the end Richard must confirm my choice of
deputy."

Alinor stared at Simon with wide, desolate eyes, but there was
nothing beyond a grim satisfaction in his face. The King would yield. He was
quick of temper and stubborn as a galled ass, but by no means a fool. Simon had
planned his campaign well. Yet there was one thing he had not considered.
Whatever Simon said, Richard would not relish being forced to reprimand his
favorite. Even if Longchamp twisted out of the blame, Richard would resent such
a subject being raised in open Court, and it was said the King had a long
memory for slights. He would never agree that Simon should obtain by marriage
the lands and the lady that had been the bone of contention.

"Do not fear for me," Simon said softly, misreading
Alinor's expression. He took her hand into his. "If I survived the father
who was by far the cleverer, I will not be trapped by the son. He is bewitched
by this dream of Crusade, but he is not an evil man."

With that cold comfort Alinor had to be content for, twist and
turn the matter in her mind as she would, she could see no other way to protect
her lands surely. Other less dangerous paths might be taken, but they would
also produce less secure results. Simon believed they would return to England
when the Queen's tour of her own lands was complete, but Alinor was not
convinced of that. Because of what she had heard pass between Richard and his
mother, she felt the Queen would not leave the negotiations for Berengaria's
hand to her son. It would be far too easy for him to be "too busy" to
press for an early marriage.

The Queen, Alinor thought, would linger until she saw Richard and
Berengaria together, possibly until they were married. Doubtless she would like
it even better if she could remain with her son until Berengaria was delivered
of a male heir. Probably Richard would not endure that and, in any case, it
would be necessary to get the French King started for the Holy Land before the
wedding took place to prevent him from demanding the return of his sister and
her dowry. Alinor was by no means confident that they would see England again
before the year that was barely started was well past. To protect her lands
over such a long period of time, strong surety was needful. Simon's way was
best.

The women's quarters were strangely silent that forenoon. The
maids scurried about their tasks as quickly and quietly as possible, more than
one with tear streaks or red welts on their faces. The ladies were frightened
and nervous, having picked up the Queen's tension. They expressed their
uneasiness by misusing their servants. Alinor was not above such behavior, but
this day she could not find relief in such a simple way. She glanced uneasily
toward the window, but the hides obscured the position of the sun and she could
not be sure of the time. Then, with a sigh of impatience, she went and craved
admittance to the Queen. It was not refused, but the glance turned upon her was
not encouraging. This, Alinor thought, was no time for circumlocution.

"Madam," she began, clasping and unclasping her hands
nervously, "you know of the letter from Sir Andre—"

"I can do no more than I have done," the Queen snapped.
"The matter rests with the King."

"Yes, Your Grace," Alinor agreed, "so Sir Simon
told me, but I thought you should know that he intends to take it to the King
today."

The Queen sat quite still, her eyes unfocused. Alinor watched her
face fearfully, but no such pallor of rage as had disfigured her the previous
day appeared. Then, suddenly, she looked intently at Alinor.

"You mean that Simon will accuse Longchamp of this in open
Court?"

Alinor swallowed. "That was his intention."

Again the Queen fell silent. Her tongue moved slowly across her
upper lip, which was chapped raw by the bitter weather they had traveled
through. She nodded twice slowly. "It was well thought of, although I
would not have urged such a dangerous ploy."

"I did not urge it. I did not even think of it," Alinor
protested, but the Queen did not seem to hear.

"To my sorrow, I doubt that it will do Longchamp any
harm," she said. Then a note of satisfaction came into her voice.
"But it will do Richard much good." She brought her eyes back to
Alinor's face. "I will do what I can for Simon."

Slowly a smile grew on her lips until at last she laughed softly.
"You will not like what I do, but I assure you, child, it is the best
thing for me, for my Richard, and for Simon, too. Yes, even for you. Patience
is a hard lesson for the young, but those who learn it soonest are saved much
grief. You were very wise to bring me this news. You may leave me now, but rest
assured of my goodwill."

A few hours later, when the full Court assembled in the Great
Hall, Simon stepped forward as soon as the King had settled into his seat.

"My lord," he said, his bass rumble drawing all eyes and
ears. "I have a small matter I would bring to your attention before we
come to the serious business of the day. Have I leave to speak?"

"If it will not take long, speak," Richard agreed.

"The Queen, as you know, made me warden of the lands of Lady
Alinor Devaux in recognition of my long loyalty and good service. You, my lord,
were graciously pleased to confirm her appointment. Then, after you sent me to
Wales, you were so kind as to name me Sheriff of Sussex to reward my labors
which, God be thanked, were crowned with success."

Richard nodded easily in confirmation of Simon's statement. It was
most tactfully put. There was a faint cynical murmur from the English barons
who knew that Simon had come by his appointment, as all of them had come to
theirs, by purchase. No one in England had been "given" anything,
except Lord John. The King raised his eyes from Simon's face to look around the
hall and the murmur died.

"In your father's day, my duties lay in the north and west so
that I knew few men in the south. Yet it is my belief that each land is
governed best by those who know it best."

"V
é
rit
é
! V
é
rit
é!
"
burst from the
throats of the English lords.

The men of Normandy, Anjou, and the southern provinces looked a
little surprised. Richard scowled blackly.

"You said this was a little matter, Sir Simon. We are not
here to discuss the theory of governance."

"Nor was it my intent to do so, my lord," Simon said
smoothly, his eyes not wavering. "I did but wish to explain why I chose
the deputy I set in my place. He is a man of ripe years, of the highest
integrity, long accustomed to administration, and completely familiar with the
problems of a shire that exposes hundreds of leagues of seacoast to invasion
from France."

"Yes, yes, I am sure you would choose a man suitable in every
way," Richard said impatiently and unwisely.

"I am glad to hear you say so, my lord." Simon's voice
turned a little grim. "Because your Chancellor and justiciar, the Bishop
of Ely, does not agree with you. He has sent my deputy notice that he will
displace him with a new warden for the lands of Lady Alinor and a new Sheriff
of Sussex."

A deathly silence fell upon the Hall. Even the barons of the
continental lands, who had been silent out of politeness or had been conversing
together very softly because they felt this was an English matter of no
particular interest to them, were startled into breathless attention. Richard
looked out upon a sea of faces turned to stone, upon bodies stiffly tense.
Every pair of eyes was wary, incipient rage leashed in by expectation— every
pair of eyes but two. Longchamp glared at Simon, and in his brother John's eyes
Richard saw an ugly hope.

It was that, far more than his mother's careful, logical
exhortation, that saved Simon at that moment. John hoped that Richard would
side with Longchamp. He could then portray himself as the supporter of right
custom, and every disaffected malcontent would flock to him to raise rebellion
against the absent King. Not in England, Richard thought contemptuously,
mistaking the more stolid manners of the northern magnates for cowardice, but
his own hot-tempered Poitevins were measuring his action, too. And William
Longchamp was little better loved in Poitiers than in England.

That thought made Richard cast an angry glance at Simon, although
it was directed more at his type than at him as an individual. They hated
Longchamp for what he was rather than for what he did, the King told himself
resentfully. Or, perhaps, they hated him because his only loyalty lay with
Richard. Longchamp mouthed no platitudes about the well-being of the realm. He
did his master's bidding and had no extraneous loyalties, like Simon's to
"honesty" in treatment of that girl ward of his. Longchamp would have
squeezed much more from Sussex and the Devaux estates. Nonetheless, Richard
knew Simon would not cheat him of his due and that nearly every man there knew
it also. He could not sacrifice Simon for the sake of a few marks and
Longchamp's pride because it would lay too much temptation in John's path.

"Is this true?" the King asked Longchamp.

"That I wish to deprive Sir Simon of his office or his ward
is a lie," William Longchamp snarled.

Simon turned slowly and took three steps forward. Even though they
were well apart and Longchamp stood on the first step of the dais, Simon towered
over him. "Do you call me a liar?" he asked softly.

"I call your correspondent a liar—or a fool. My lord."
Longchamp turned toward the King. "I am your Deputy Chancellor and
Justiciar of England, and I say the man chosen by Sir Simon is totally unfit
for this duty. He is uncle to Lady Alinor Devaux, the chief of her vassals, and
too close in love to the gentry of Sussex to judge fairly what is owing from
them to Your Grace."

"Well, Sir Simon," Richard asked almost smiling. He
should have known William would not fail him. "Is what the Bishop of Ely
says true?"

Longchamp was clever, but he and Richard both underestimated
Simon, assuming that his big body and quick reflexes were all there was to him.
Longchamp expected a roar of rage and angry sputtering denials that he could
demolish. Instead Simon grinned cheerfully at the King. Richard suffered a
sudden reversal of feeling. He remembered that cheerful grin very well.

"One word in three is God's truth. Sir Andre is indeed chief
of Lady Alinor's vassals, which was a strong reason to name him deputy, as he
can summon Lady Alinor's men to defend the coast without the long delays
necessary when a sheriff calls a levy. Did I judge wrong in this, my
lord?"

Richard was a consummate soldier and tactician; he could not help
grinning back. Clever in politics, finance, and chicanery, Longchamp was an
idiot in war—which was why William Marshal had been left in England.

"He has you, William," the King said. There was laughter
from the assembled nobles. The tension eased appreciably as the men realized
the King was not going to support his favorite blindly, ignoring justice.
Responding to the atmosphere of approval, Richard's resentment abated.
"Well, Sir Simon," he encouraged more genially.

"Sir Andre was the husband of Lady Alinor's grandfather's
natural daughter. He says himself that it is no claim-worthy blood bond, but
you may judge that for yourself, my lord. Further, he has been in Sussex only
some three or four years. He has no blood kin there, and the last of those
years he was at war with almost every house in the shire. I freely admit it was
no private matter that brought him to blows with them—they were somewhat
overeager suitors for his lady's hand in marriage—but I doubt that any deep
love ties have been formed among them."

That brought another laugh. Richard was not so well pleased to see
his Chancellor held up to ridicule, but he was trapped in the facts.

"Perhaps you have not investigated this matter closely
enough, William," the King suggested. It was an easy way out.

"Please, my lord," Simon put in before Longchamp could
answer, "that is not the point. Simply, it is this. You appointed me. Have
I given you any cause to lose faith in me?"

"Of course not," Richard replied quickly. He was
frowning but he could give no other answer. No man would believe that Sir Simon
had failed in a trust.

"Then, my lord, it does not matter if I chose an ape to be my
deputy. Even if every word the Bishop of Ely said was true, he had no right to
interfere with my choice. It is my responsibility and my ruination if I chose
ill. It is my duty to deliver what is due to you when it is due. If I do not,
you may take my lands away and my head also. If you believe I cannot perform my
duty, you have the right to deprive me of offices and even of life. I do not
contest your right to that, but otherwise it is
my
right to appoint what
deputy I will to carry out my orders."