Alinor (10 page)

"That Isabella," Alinor hissed. "Only she could hurt a child because she was jealous of the father. And what sort of uncle is the king―"

"Indifferent, belike, or truly unaware. John loves Salisbury and would not, I think, allow his boy to come to harm—unless— No. It must be that the households are so large that he did not see what Isabella was doing. I hope the boy is not seriously ill."

"I doubt he is ill at all. He has been perfectly well these four days and even this morning."

"Then what happened to set him first pale, then blushing and trembling—" Ian's voice faded.

A horrible notion had just occurred to him. Geoffrey had been carving the cheese, which was standing in front of Joanna, and Joanna—Ian cast a glance at her —Joanna bid fair to be a beauty to make men mad. But not now! She was nine years old! Yes, and the boy was not quite 14. Only 14? Ian had another memory of his youth that he had not mentioned to Alinor—that one was quite pleasant. He had not been much more than 12 when he had had his first woman. Fortunately, at that moment Joanna bolted her last bit of bread and asked permission to go. Alinor nodded, and the girl ran off. Ian's eyes followed her.

"Do not leave Geoffrey and Joanna alone together," Ian said sharply to Alinor.

She looked at him in surprise, then raised her brows. "I had not thought of that, but you are right. It is possible. Is he forward in that manner?"

"I do not know, but in John's court he would have sufficient opportunity to learn. Take care. He who is safe is not later sorry."

CHAPTER FOUR

It was late in the morning before Alinor was free to go to Geoffrey, who had been ordered to lie down on his pallet in Ian's bedchamber and rest until she had time for him. He had begged to go with Ian, assuring him over and over that he was not ill. By then he was so flushed with distress and with struggling to restrain his tears that he felt very feverish to Ian's touch, and Ian remained adamant. It could not hurt the child to rest abed for a day, even if he was well, and if he was beginning some illness, the rest might check it.

Alinor found Geoffrey with his face turned to the wall. She wondered whether he was asleep, because he could not have failed to hear her coming. Then a glimmer of an idea came to her. Joanna might not be the only child to be distressed by her marriage to Ian. She drew over a low stool, settled on it, and put a hand under the boy's hair on the back of his neck. He was not asleep. She could feel the tension of the muscles, but he had no fever.

"Turn round, Geoffrey."

Rigidly, reluctantly, the boy turned. His face was as blank as a mask, his eyes nearly black, fixed on nothing and as much as possible bidden under lowered lids. Alinor loosened the laces of his shirt and found the pulse in his throat. It pounded hard and fast, not weakness or fever.

"I do not believe you are ill, Geoffrey," Alinor said quietly.

"I said I was not, madam."

"Sit up, then. It is easier to talk." She waited until he had settled with crossed legs and his back against the wall. "You are fond of Lord Ian, are you not, Geoffrey?"

"Yes, madam."

Alinor smiled. "And not overpleased that he should take a wife?"

The young face was still expressionless, but the eyes flicked to her swiftly, once. "I must be glad of anything that makes my lord glad. Of course I am pleased."

Restraining her impulse to laugh aloud, which would surely offend the delicate sensibilities of youth, Alinor patted Geoffrey's tightly clasped hands. "That is very generous of you, since you must fear that Lord Ian's time will be spent in different ways and that he will not be able to give so much attention to your training and advancement. But it will not be so. First, Lord Ian would never forget his responsibilities in that way. Second, I could not wish it nor permit it. It will be very important to me that you be strong and skilled in your duties. Many times Lord Ian's safety will depend upon you, so I must urge him to teach you all he can as quick as he can."

Something was stirring behind the fixed young mask. Alinor waited, her hand resting gently on Geoffrey's. The boy stared at her, taking in the white skin, the full, generous mouth, the short, slightly tip-tilted nose, the large green-brown eyes shaded by black, black lashes. Geoffrey was young, but not too young to recognize that the way the features were put together produced beauty. It was a beauty different from the queen's, but it was still hateful and suspicious. In his grandfather's house, the women had been kind to him. None of them looked like the queen or like Lady Alinor.

"But you are so beautiful," he burst out.

"Why, thank you, Geoffrey," Alinor replied. She was considerably startled. The exclamation was no compliment. There had been a ring of fear in the boy's voice. "I assure you Lord Ian will not be ensorcelled and lose his reason. He has known me for a very long time, longer than your whole life. He is quite accustomed to my appearance."

For the first time Geoffrey's eyes came up and stared defiantly into hers. Their color was lighter and brighter, a golden brown. "Do you know I am a bastard, madam?"

Alinor laughed aloud. "Yes, indeed. What of that? So was my great grandfather and my great-great grandfather, too. My grandfather was not, but that was only because the priest hurried the service in accordance with my great grandmother's need. I understand that it was a very near thing."

"You think it is funny?" Geoffrey's eyes were darker again and the corners showed the sheen of tears.

"I think it is of no importance," Alinor said seriously, contrite at her carelessness. The young were so easily hurt. "A man is what he makes of himself. He can be a filthy thing, although born of high estate, or he can be like my Simon, born to little but greater than the kings he served." Alinor bit her lip. How quickly Simon's name came to her. To Geoffrey she should have spoken of Ian or of his father. "Perhaps," she continued, "your mother and father should have been wiser, but sometimes it is very hard to be wise. Geoffrey, my love, you will hear no word of blame from me, even of your parents, and for you, my child, you are innocent of any wrong. Did you think I would care what you were born?"

"But you are so beautiful!"

The reiteration, coupled with what Ian had told Alinor, suddenly clarified at least part of Geoffrey's trouble. Queen Isabella was one of the most beautiful women alive. Alinor slipped off the stool onto her knees and drew Geoffrey into her arms.

"Child, child," she murmured, "not every beautiful woman is cruel—at least not to children." She uttered a shaken laugh. "You have a few years before you need to worry about the other form of cruelty, I think." She released him, leaned back onto her heels, and took his hand into hers. "You must not blame the lovely ladies overmuch. You must try to remember that they are poor, weak things and their beauty is the only power they have. Thus they have no choice but to use it— sometimes unwisely."

"A—a queen has power," Geoffrey faltered.

"Not as much as appears, and Queen Isabella has many private sorrows that—that make her impatient and—and jealous where, really, she should not be. Never mind her anymore, Geoffrey. You now belong to Lord Ian and, a little, only as much as you yourself desire, to me. Lord Ian will not allow anyone, even the queen, to harm you. And if you will permit it, I, too, will love you. There is no need to answer that. Just keep it in your mind. Now, since you are not ill, perhaps you would run some errands for me?"

"At once, madam."

"Good." Alinor thought the best thing for him was to be kept well occupied until calm was restored to him. "I want my chief huntsman and my head falconer. They are somewhere around the castle grounds, but I do not know where. Do not worry if it takes you time to find them. Just tell them to be sure to dine in hall today. Oh, yes, the chief groom also, but I am not sure he is in the keep. Do not ride out after him if he is not in the grounds."

"I am not likely to fall off my horse, madam," Geoffrey said indignantly, and then drew in his breath sharply as he realized he had been insolent.

Alinor laughed. "Of course not, but Lord Ian would be justly angered if, after leaving you with me because he feared you were not well, I allowed you to go careening off all over the countryside and paid no attention to you."

She wondered whether she should make some reference to Joanna. That she had found one seat of trouble did not mean that another did not exist. Better not. Better let the children meet in hall before dinner under her eye and see what there was to see. Alinor rose easily to her feet, and Geoffrey jumped up and started out. Alinor had to call him back to take his cloak, noting that he would need more gentling. He had stiffened apprehensively when she called out peremptorily. Nonetheless, she had made a beginning. The order to take his cloak had won a shy smile. Now, another trial, a harder one. Alinor straightened the pallet automatically, glanced around the chamber. It might not be so easy to deal with Joanna.

She found her daughter with Father Francis reading a simple saint's tale with little enthusiasm. Ian might be right about Joanna's desire to be good, Alinor thought, but if so, that desire certainly did not take the form of ardent religion—which was just as well. She called her daughter away and started up toward the women's quarters, ignoring Joanna's heavy sighs. Joanna was even less enthusiastic about sewing, weaving, and spinning than about saints' tales. There is more of me in her than that red hair and blue eyes show, Alinor reminded herself.

But Alinor had no intention of setting her daughter to some distasteful task that would leave her mind free to brood on this day. For the next week or two, Joanna would be occupied only with those aspects of the coming wedding that would excite and interest her. The whole affair, Alinor hoped, would take on an aura of pleasure while Joanna grew accustomed to the idea. Before Alinor could start her campaign with an order to turn out the chests of fine brocades and velvets to choose suitable cloth for the dresses to be worn, Joanna spoke.

"Why is it so important to be chaste, Mother?"

"Oh, heavens, today is my day for being proved by hard questions," Alinor exclaimed. She gestured her daughter to a seat. "What put this into your head?"

"Saint Agatha," Joanna said succinctly.

"Oh." Alinor wondered why she was always cursed with chaplains who were as good and kind and virtuous as they were unworldly, unwise and impractical. One could not explain to Father Francis that this was the wrong time to give a nine-year-old stories to read about martyrdom to preserve purity. First of all, it was unlikely that Father Francis' mind had grasped the fact that Alinor was planning to marry again five months after her husband's death. Even if it had, he would see no connection. Chastity was, of course, the holiest state, but as Paul said, "It is better to marry than to burn." Marriage, for those who were not strong enough for total continence, was not an unchaste state.

"Well," Alinor temporized, "Saint Agatha had dedicated her body to God. She wished to keep it unspotted for Him."

"But would it not be better to use it to some good purpose, such as converting the man who desired her, than to die?"

Alinor struggled with herself and, as usual, lost. She chuckled. "My love, I am afraid I think as you do, but that is because I am a coarse and worldly creature. For the holy, purity is more important than life. The question is not likely to arise for you. The future Lady of Roselynde will not need to take the veil. You will need to marry and breed up heirs."

"Were you chaste, Mother?"

"Yes, Joanna. I knew no man until I married your father, and I never touched another man in all the years that we were man and wife—touched in the way of love, I mean." Alinor said nothing of how willing she had been to take Simon, in or out of wedlock. Alinor did not he to her children, but it was not a lie to omit a fact she considered beyond the comprehension of a nine-year-old girl.

"Why? Because it was a sin to be unchaste?"

"No, I fear not," Alinor replied, still honestly, although her voice was not quite as steady as it had been. "I fear I did not think much of sin when I was a girl. Before I met your father I had never seen a man I valued high enough to give my body or my heart— which was more important. After I married I was chaste because I loved your father and it would have hurt him if I gave to another what he believed belonged to him."

"You do not love Papa anymore?" Joanna whispered.

Although Alinor had known that had to be the next question, she winced. To be prepared for pain does not really diminish the pang. She drew a deep breath, and then another.

"Of course I love your father, Joanna. I will always love him, always and always." She stopped and fought the tears, but she lost that battle, too. They welled slowly over her lower lids and down her cheeks.

"Do you think Papa will not care any longer that you give to Ian what used to be his?"

Alinor brushed away the tears. Joanna had not seemed to notice them, but that was not surprising. She had seen her mother's face wet so often in the past year and a half that it was a usual thing to her.

"That is certainly true," Alinor replied. "Papa still loves us all, but he has no more use for my body, Joanna, and he was never the kind to hoard for himself what he did not want just so that someone else should
not
have it. Papa will not care about that. He will only care if we forget him, and I will never forget him and never stop loving him."

That seemed to satisfy Joanna, and she wriggled toward the front of the chair as if she was about to slide off. Then she suddenly frowned. Obviously, a new problem had occurred to her.

"But what about Ian? If you love Papa and then you marry Ian—will you be unchaste after you are married to Ian because you do not love him and do not care if you hurt him?"

"Who said I did not love Ian, Joanna?" Alinor asked gravely. "You know it is very possible to love more than one person at a time. I love you. Does that mean I may not love Adam, who is also my child? Why should I not also love Ian, even if I continue to love Papa? And if I love Ian, then I would never do anything to hurt him. I assure you, I will be as chaste a wife to Ian as I was to your father."