Roselynde (45 page)

"It was your beauty, you would imply?" Richard remarked
in a too-neutral voice.

"Oh, no, my lord, it was my broad acres," Alinor said
quite seriously.

Richard uttered a guffaw, then said somewhat less petulantly,
"Very well, if it must be done, let us do it."

The Queen gestured toward a table near the wall that Alinor had
been too upset to notice. It was already set with writing materials, and Alinor
seated herself after again curtsying to the King, the Queen and the Bishop. She
drew a parchment, wet her quill, and waited with her hand poised to write.

The first letter, addressed to Pope Clement, begged that all
previous requests be disregarded and that Geoffrey be consecrated Archbishop of
York for those reasons that Ali- nor, Queen by the Grace of God of England,
would rehearse to him. The second letter directed William Longchamp and his
associate justiciars to act in all things only with the advice of Walter of
Coutances, Bishop of Rouen. The third letter was to William Marshal. It stated
plainly that if the Chancellor William Longchamp, refused to follow his advice
and that of the Bishop of Rouen, they were to override Longchamp. A fourth
letter, addressed in general to the other justiciars, repeated almost exactly
the orders given to William Marshal.

Alinor went back to her own cell tired but happy. She had seen the
trust and understanding between the Queen and the Bishop of Rouen and it seemed
to her that matters in England would come to a satisfactory conclusion. She did
not have much time to think about the subject because her maid was waiting with
a message summoning her to Berengaria. Alinor snatched up the glove cuffs she
was embroidering and went with an eager step. Perhaps Berengaria had already
been told they were to accompany Richard. In any case, she was happy. If
Simon's eyes had temporarily wandered, they were firmly centered on her now.
She was in just the right mood to listen to Berengaria's talk of love and
fulfillment.

The Princess of Navarre was not alone, however. Seated beside her,
confidentially close, was Richard's sister Joanna. Alinor dropped a double
curtsy and stood waiting, a trifle wary.

"Where have you been?" Berengaria asked in a sharp voice
and then, as Alinor's color rose consciously, the Princess's expression cleared
and she clapped a hand to her lips. "Oh, how stupid of me, Alinor. Forgive
me. I should have thought—"

Alinor shook her head. "I beg pardon, my lady. The Queen
summoned me to write a letter for her."

"It must have been a long letter," Joanna said softly.

In spite of the suspicion on Joanna's face, Alinor rather warmed
to her. Richard's sister had apparently taken Berengaria's measure and wished
to protect her. Alinor often felt the same way, although sometimes her
mistress's good nature and credulousness annoyed her. She was not afraid of
Joanna since she was not given to taking advantage of Berengaria.

"No, my lady," Alinor responded pleasantly. "By the
time I arrived the King and the Bishop of Rouen were with the Queen. I had a
long wait before she was free."

"An important letter, if my mother kept you so long in
waiting to write it."

"Not at all. I think, my lady, the Queen forgot I was
there."

Suddenly Berengaria laughed, her soft eyes sparkling with gentle
malice. "There is no use in asking Alinor questions about what she writes
for the Queen. You will receive no answers. She will recite to you the pious
openings and all the philosophical passages, but not one matter of fact."

Alinor was somewhat startled. Berengaria had picked up her method
of circumventing questions more cleverly than she would have expected. "I
am sorry, my lady," she said. "I love you dearly, I do, but I cannot
speak of what—to me—is almost like what is said in the confessional. I do my
best to put the few matters of state the Queen might mention right out of my
mind—"

"Do not beg pardon," Berengaria cried. "I think it
was your care for the Queen's business that first made me love you. I saw that
what went in your ears did not flow out of your mouth in the next instant. I
have been less trustworthy than you, for I have given your secret away to my
dear sister Joanna. Oh, Alinor, were you indeed waiting for the Queen? Have you
not seen your knight?"

"I was truly in the Queen's chamber all this morning,"

Alinor said carefully. If it was possible, she did not wish to lie
to Berengaria.

"You see how clever she is, and truthful, too,"
Berengaria said with a laugh to Joanna. "She never said she had not seen
him." Then to Alinor, "Come and sit with us. You must learn to love
Joanna and she you. Oh, Alinor—" the dark eyes glowed with love and
happiness and excitement "—my lord will take us with him! He told me so.
And Joanna is to come, too." Berengaria burst into a joyous trill of
laughter. "She is to be my chaperone! Is it not delightful? And so silly
and darling of Richard. As if I would suspect him of ill intentions toward
me."

"I am very happy, my lady. Very, very happy. You know it was
my dearest wish as well as yours."

"But you do not seem very surprised." Joanna's voice was
kinder although still with a note of reserve.

She, Alinor thought, was even cleverer than Berengaria and far
wiser in the ways of the world. "I am not really surprised," Alinor
admitted. "My warden, Sir Simon, rode to the hospice with me yesterday and
pointed out that we are in Lent and there could be no marriage. Thus the King
must take you, my lady, or wait here another month and more." Alinor did
not mention her suspicion that Richard would have been happy not to marry at
all. She did not even need to school her expression to hide the ugly thought
because Joanna had burst into laughter.

"You
are in Sir Simon's ward? Are you the
Lady Alinor that is a total compendium of all the virtues?" Joanna asked.

"Virtues?" Alinor exclaimed, "I? You heard of my
virtues
from Sir Simon?"

"I heard of nothing else. It seems to be his only topic of
conversation," Joanna remarked drily. "When we ride, I hear of how
Lady Alinor sits a horse. If we stop to talk to a merchant or a villein, I hear
of how Lady Alinor manages her men. In fact, whatever we do, Lady Alinor is
perfect in that thing."

A giggle escaped Alinor, then a louder laugh, then a most
unladylike series of whoops. "Oh! Oh!" She gasped when she could
speak at all, wiping tears from her eyes with one hand and holding her aching
ribs with the other. "Oh, how I will roast him! I will have you know, my
lady, that he never says a kind word to me. I am willful, and disobedient, and
unmaidenly. It is you, Lady Joanna, who are a compendium of all the virtues.
You should see the letters I have received praising the sweetness of your
temper, your gentleness, your modesty and prudence."

A less guarded warmth came into Joanna's eyes and she laughed.
"Well," she admitted, "he must be honest, too. He never said you
were modest, prudent, or sweet tempered." Suddenly her gaze became
speculative, but she asked no question, merely continued, "I had assumed
you to be absolutely perfect. I am glad to know you are human and no
saint."

"But Alinor is sweet tempered," Berengaria protested.

"And modest? And prudent?" Joanna teased.

"Yes, indeed," Berengaria insisted.

There, Alinor thought, was the lady's real failing. She saw what
she wanted to see, not what was really there. "Perhaps to you I am,"
she replied, seeing that Berengaria, who had no sense of humor, was distressed.
"But, my lady, you do not constantly tell me to have a care not to ride a
spirited mount, or climb a hill, or dance three times with the same gentleman.
Nor do you disagree with me on the management of my estates. Oh, that brings to
mind— There are matters I must have Sir Simon's approval upon regarding my
lands. If we are truly to go with the King, I would like to send instructions
to my chief vassal at once. May I have your permission to summon Sir
Simon?"

"Of course," Berengaria agreed readily.

She rang a little silver bell, and a page appeared. Berengaria
nodded at Alinor who gave the boy instructions to find Sir Simon and ask him to
meet her in the Cloister. At this point Joanna interrupted to remark that Sir
Simon might be away from the hospice on the King's business. She advised that
the page come back for Alinor when Sir Simon was found.

"He is like a hand to Richard," Joanna remarked with
seeming casualness, but her eyes on Alinor, "employed on every service. I
do not know what Richard would do without him."

One could mask one's eyes, lips, and hands, Alinor found, but the
blood of the body cannot be mastered. Color stained her white skin. She took up
the glove cuffs upon which she was working and bent her head over them, but she
was aware of two pair of curious eyes on her. There was no sense in trying to
talk about how much Simon was like her grandfather; there had already been too
much talk about "her knight." Alinor wondered whether it would be
more dangerous to tell an outright lie or to confess, but she was never put to
the point. Joanna made some general remark about clothing that would be
suitable for the Holy Land, and the brief awkwardness passed. Joanna had
discovered what she wanted to know and, unlike Berengaria, did not need to
discuss the matter. Alinor was relieved. Somehow, she trusted Richard's sister.

Her advice about Simon had certainly been sound. It was not until
shortly before the dinner hour that Alinor was called to the Cloister. She
found Simon, dusty and tired, leaning against the balustrade. It was cool and
shaded in the Cloister and Alinor wished she could let Simon be still, but
voices carried along the stone and the pillars could shield any number of
listeners. Alinor did not specifically fear spies, but what she had to say
should not fall on any ears but Simon's.

"I have been sitting all morning," Alinor said
pointedly, "let us stroll as I tell you Sir John's trouble with the
fishers of Mersea."

Simon looked at her, nodded, and followed. Alinor began a tale of
a storm that had damaged the Mersea fleet and how Sir John wished to rebuild it
and, therefore, needed to borrow money or to be excused from his regular rents.
When they were sure no one was sitting in the Cloister or at any window that
looked out onto it, Alinor told Simon Berengaria's news, because that was now
uppermost in her mind. It was clear that Simon already knew.

"That was my business this morning. I went to select and see
fitted a ship to carry the ladies."

"Select a ship?" Alinor said blankly. "Does not
Lady Berengaria travel with the King?"

Simon stared out over Alinor's head. "He says it would be too
dangerous. That any attack would be launched at his vessel in an attempt to
turn back the whole army."

"Oh," Alinor said flatly. "I see. How—how very
sensible."

"Yes."

Alinor's eyes filled with tears. She swallowed them back.
Doubtless Berengaria would be enchanted with Richard's touching care for her
safety. "Well," Alinor said in a slightly unsteady voice, "I
have other news of almost as great import. This morning—" But the tears
rose in her throat again and she clutched at Simon's hand. "Simon—oh,
Simon, you would never be so sensible, would you?"

Simon's eyes came back to her, fastened on her mouth, which she
could not hold quite firm, moved away with a painful effort. "Stop it,
Alinor. Stop, or I will take you and kiss you, and God knows once I start
whether I will be able to stop. This is not the time or the place for this
foolishness."

He cleared his throat harshly. "Every man should be so
sensible," he said. "To endanger a bride's safety for reasons of
pleasure or desire is—is—" There was a brief silence. "No, I could
not be so sensible. You know I could not."

"Thank God for it," Alinor sighed, and then had to hold
him off. "No, Simon. I have news I
must
tell you, and it is nigh
time for dinner. Longchamp is to be curbed."

Still staring at her, Simon asked, "How?" but he did not
really sound much interested.

Alinor recited the gist of the letters she had written. She could
see Simon making an effort to concentrate on what she said. That was odd
enough. What was even odder was that he was not at all pleased with what he was
hearing.

"The Bishop of Rouen? Not the Queen?" he asked sharply.

"Not the Queen?" Alinor echoed. "Yesterday you were
troubled because you thought she sought to rule. Today you are displeased
because she does not. She cannot be in two places at once. She will remain on
her own lands, 1 believe."

"But the trouble is in England."

"Not if Philip returns as it is rumored he desires to
do."

"There will be time before Philip can reach France. By then
the Queen could have settled matters in England. Alinor, do you not see what
will happen? Of himself the Bishop of Rouen cannot command the allegiance of
the barons. The churchmen possibly, although I doubt it because Longchamp has
legatine power from the Pope. This means he must draw Lord John into a quarrel.
What the devil is the King about? Does he desire a war with his brother?"

"I think," Alinor said slowly, as she absorbed what
Simon had pointed out, "that you were right when you said Lord Richard
does not see Lord John's nature clearly. Richard is not greedy. Having been
stuffed with lands and power, the King would be content. He believes Lord John
will not meddle in the matter so that— Now I see. The King is still not really
willing to curb Longchamp. He said so to us all. That was why the powers were
given to Rouen. The King hopes the Bishop will fail. He does not realize Rouen
will draw in Lord John."