Roselynde (60 page)

"He hurt you cruelly," Berengaria said mournfully.

"Simon?" Alinor repeated, and then choked when she
realized the Queen meant the blood-flooded sheets the morning after they were
married. In the night, the cut in Simon's groin had opened again and there had
been more bleeding than was wanted or expected. "That was months ago and—
and it was an accident," Alinor faltered unsteadily.

Berengaria misunderstood the cause of Alinor's failing voice. Her
eyes softened. "Stay with me," she urged. "He cannot force you
to leave me. Let him have the lands. We can live together always, you and I and
Joanna, and play and sing and read."

Alinor was tempted to tell Berengaria the truth in the hope that
it would remove at least one shadow from that unhappy lady's mind, but she did
not dare. Berengaria's experience had soured her. Usually she meant to be kind,
but sometimes a dangerous streak of spitefulness was visible in her actions.

"Forgive me, Madam," she said instead. "Your life
and mine have been very different. I am of coarser stuff. I cannot be satisfied
to play and sing. I need to ride and hunt and oversee the building of ships and
tell my villeins what crops to sow."

"I will find work for you then," Berengaria said.

Alinor sighed. She had hoped to avoid this but she saw that no
matter what other excuse she offered Berengaria would find an answer. "You
mistake me. It is my desire as much as Simon's that takes me to his bed. He
takes from me no greater pleasure than he gives to me. I would be clear. I urge
him to mating as often as he urges me."

"You are indeed of coarser stuff," Berengaria said
distastefully. "That is God's curse upon women for Eve's sin. It is
necessary for the breeding of children and not for pleasure."

The mild sorrow Alinor felt at having disappointed Berengaria was
completely overshadowed by her relief when they reached Rome. Here Berengaria
summoned Simon and told him that he was dismissed from her service. Joanna had
many contacts in Italy, and they could easily hire men to protect them. Simon
was doubtful about leaving his charge, but Berengaria said that she intended to
remain in Rome for some time, adding significantly that she had business with
the Pope. Simon made no comment upon that, although he thought she would get
little satisfaction from that source. Nonetheless, he was certain Richard would
not care. He took the precaution of obtaining written orders from both
Berengaria and Joanna dismissing him and also found two Cardinals who would
soon be traveling to Normandy. Having received Berengaria's promise that she
would place herself in their trustworthy hands, Simon happily relinquished his
charge.

He and Alinor and their troop of homesick men moved north with all
haste. They were able to cross the Alps before any of the heavy snow had fallen
and, at long last, in the middle of September, they sailed safely into
Roselynde harbor. Alinor was so moved that she knelt down and kissed the filthy
mud of the street, kissed also the common people who flocked around her
cheering and weeping with joy at her return. Sir Andre was good and just, but
in the absence of his lady he had preferred to err on the side of justice
rather than that of mercy. Moreover, Sir Andre would authorize no celebrations
while Lady Alinor was away and possibly in danger. Now the people knew there
would be a great celebration. There would be free meat and bread and ale and
wine and singing and dancing in the streets and in the great keep.

There was a celebration, of course. Alinor would never think of
disappointing so natural and innocent an expectation merely because she would
not enjoy the festivities quite as wholeheartedly as others. Simon could not be
present. It had been decided between them that no announcement of their
marriage should be made before Simon could acquaint Queen Alinor with the fact.
He took the marriage contract, signed by the King as witness, and started for
London the day after they arrived.

Alinor missed him, but there was a great deal to do. Sir Andre
would not, of course, be in constant residence because of his heavy duties as
deputy sheriff. Land disputes and petty criminal cases had piled up. Alinor set
herself to clearing up these matters and to listening to tales of woe about bad
crops and lost fishing boats to disentangle malingerers from honest
unfortunates. Somehow in her absence spinning spindles, looms, and embroidery
frames had produced far fewer products than they were wont to do. Her maids
needed lessoning, and they got it.

From before dawn to past dusk, Alinor ran up and down stairs,
rode, listened, gave justice, praised, punished, and scolded. She had never
been so happy in all her life. It was so great a pleasure to be doing something
real again that she scarcely felt the fatigue of long hours. No problem was too
great, no burden too heavy. Any matter that puzzled or distressed her could be
put aside for when Simon returned. What had kept her sleepless in the night
before her marriage troubled her not a whit now that he shared the
responsibility. For those broad shoulders and that wise, experienced head all
such burdens were light.

Simon had been expected back in a few weeks, but Alinor received a
letter instead. Upon arriving in London, he had found the Queen had left
unexpectedly the day before to make an unannounced progress. He was pursing her
as rapidly as possible.

"But you know, my love," he wrote, "the quickness
and unexpectedness of her motions. The word in London was that she intended for
Oxford, but when I started upon that road there was no news of her passage.
Back I came and hied me round the city gates only to find that she had departed
upon the road to Canterbury. Thus I am two days behind her. God alone knows
when I will find her and then, far more desirable, find myself again in your
arms."

There was no help for it. Alinor certainly did not blame Simon.
The Queen was ill to follow even when you knew a sure destination. On progress
she changed her plans every day and sometimes even in the middle of a march.
Sadly, Alinor put away the twelve gifts she had made ready for her husband. She
did not even know where to send them. It was disappointing, but there would be
other twelve-days. A week later she had another letter with better news,
although not the best. Simon had found the Queen, but was not yet on his way
home.

"She was not best pleased at my news," he wrote. "I
am glad, very glad, that the King's name and seal were on our contract. Else, I
fear she might not have honored it. The troubles that Longchamp began have
raised a stubbornness in the people as I feared. It is none so easy to collect
the monies the King demands. Thus, it is not easy for her to give up the rich
revenues that flow from your lands. I bide in her company a little time to
smooth things over. I will, a little later, offer her a fine for that we
married without her leave. Strictly, this is not needful because the King's
will overrides all else, but I think it well worth the price to have her
goodwill and, thanks to the richness of my booty, I can well afford to pay.

"Beloved, beloved, I ache for you. I am like a boy who is
tormented by his new manhood, sleeping for comfort with a pillow between my
thighs. I wish I could bring you that gift we must give each other to receive
pleasure, but I can only send instead these few poor tokens of the love I bear
you."

A small chest accompanied the letter. The gifts were arranged in
order, from a trifle of a fine kerchief for the first day to another river of
gold and pearls and gems, rubies this time, for the twelfth. Alinor touched
them fondly and put them aside. She had received another letter that day that
was occupying her mind. She would have given up the whole chestful of tokens
for half an hour's speech with Simon or even knowledge of where to send a
letter to ask for advice.

The chaplain at Kingsclere had written to say that the castellan
of the keep was dead. Alinor was sorry because he had been a reliable servant
and still a young man, but illness cut many down in their youth and strength.
What troubled her was that his wife, Lady Grisel, lived and there were
children, two small sons and a daughter. Some might have put the woman out
without a thought, trusting that she had relatives who would take her in.
Alinor had been raised with a stricter sense of responsibility. Moreover, the letter
contained a frantic plea for sympathy and comfort, which, in spite of dilution
by the chaplain's transmission, touched Alinor's heart. She was too young a
bride, too much in love, to ignore the need of a woman who had lost her mate.

The first thing should have been to choose a new castellan for
Kingsclere, but this Alinor did not wish to do without Simon's advice. Perhaps
he had a friend he would wish to advance to such a desirable situation, and she
had no one in mind. More important, Alinor knew she was no judge of a man's
ability as a warrior, and Simon and she had spoken enough of the troubles that
might easily overwhelm England. Every keep would need a doughty warrior to make
it safe. It would also be kinder to go herself to comfort the widow, to assure
her provision would be made for her and her children if she desired it. Simon
could follow with the new castellan as soon as he returned to Roselynde.

In the next three days Alinor cleared all the most important
business. With Brother Philip she left the letter from Kingsclere and one she
wrote herself explaining why she had gone and asking Simon to find a castellan
and come with him as soon as was convenient. Then, secure in being a wife
rather than a prize any could snatch, she left for Kingsclere with only a few
men-at-arms.

She was greeted with voluble expressions of gratitude and welcome,
but the atmosphere in the keep was very strange. Alinor told herself not to be
a fool. Of course, the body would not be normal once the head was gone. Even at
Roselynde the servants had become a little careless during her absence. How
much more would her death and the uncertainty of what would come next have
affected them. And Lady Grisel clung to her so close, weeping and moaning, that
it was two days before she could pin down the real cause of her uneasiness.

There was scarcely a face she knew, aside from Lady Grisel and her
children, in Kingsclere Keep. Most of the servants and all the men-at-arms were
new. Even the master-at-arms was a stranger. Alinor only discovered this fact
on the third day when she insisted she would dine in the Great Hall. Until then
Lady Grisel had begged Alinor to eat with her in the women's quarters, vowing
that she could not in her grief face the noise and crowd below. Finally, however,
Alinor had enough of what she knew to be self-indulgence. Sooner or later,
whatever the pain of one's grief, one must begin to live again. And the sooner
one began the better. Moreover, Alinor was beginning to doubt the sincerity of
Lady Grisel's grief. Here and there a false note sounded. There might be an
innocent explanation for this, but coupled with all the new faces it was a
dangerous sign.

Thus, when Alinor seated herself at the center of the High Table,
she was already uneasy. Her eyes ran up and down the lower tables, then made
another circuit. It was not possible, yet it was so. Her men, those who had
come with her from Roselynde, even Beorn, were not present. She lowered her
eyes to her plate. If they were not there, they had been kept away by guile or
by force. And if guile or force had been used, some evil purpose was intended.

What evil purpose? It was insane. Did Lady Grisel think she could
force Alinor to cede the keep into her hands? Nonsense. She must know that the
moment Alinor was free she would repudiate such an agreement and bring an army
to revenge herself. Could Lady Grisel intend her death? That was even madder.
Although the woman did not know that Alinor was married—and what Simon would do
to the perpetrator of her death was unthinkable even to Alinor—even an idiot
like Lady Grisel must realize that to kill the mistress would only put the
property totally in the King's hands and make the positions of vassals and
castellans less secure.

Then Alinor's thoughts caught on the significant point. Lady
Grisel did not know she was married. Probably that idiot thought she had only
to deliver Alinor into the hands of whatever man desired her. Doubtless the man
had promised to cede the castle into Lady Grisel's hands for that service.
Alinor nearly laughed. What a rude surprise they would all have. She would not
say a word. Let her unwise suitor come and offer what blandishments he wanted.
It would make the joke even funnier. Alinor turned and spoke sweetly about the
guarding and manning of the castle to the new master-at-arms. She did not know
whether he was in the plot, but as the conversation proceeded she decided he
would have to be dismissed in any case. He was too smooth, too cocksure, and
too ignorant under the sureness.

Just after dusk the joke did not seem so funny. Lord John himself
was ushered into Alinor's torchlit private chamber without warning. She rose
hastily and dropped a deep curtsy. He might have nothing to do with this, she
hoped. Perhaps his arrival was a pure coincidence. Kingsclere was on the road
to London. Perhaps he had stopped for a night's lodging. However, even before
he spoke, Alinor realized that could not be true. Had it been so, she would
have been summoned to the Great Hall. Lord John would not have demeaned himself
to come to her chamber. Alinor clasped her hands together nervously. Lord John
was no man to jest with. From what she had heard, he did not accept defeat
pleasantly.