The Silver Falcon (63 page)

Odon clutched the reins tightly. Why had William left the boy in the care of this man, of all men? Odon sniffed contemptuously. Robert obviously didn’t take him seriously as an adversary. “Don’t be too sure you’re safe,” he muttered. Did William know about his fine friend’s unnatural behavior and Odon’s threat? Perhaps he thought it was just slanderous lies. One thing was certain: Robert knew who Adam’s father was and would probably take his revenge on the boy for the injustice he had suffered at Odon’s hands.

Odon clenched his fists angrily. He certainly wouldn’t have spared William’s son if he’d had him in his clutches.

He broke off for a moment; then an evil grin spread across his face.

The hunt turned out to be a great triumph for William. Not only was Blanchpenny beautiful and therefore exceptionally valuable; she had also flown marvelously.

Delighted with the hunt, John was in an excellent mood and promised to reward William with further lands and titles. Moreover, he announced that William would be accompanying him on his travels until the molting season so that he could take care of Blanchpenny. As soon as she started to molt her first feathers, however, William and Robert were to head back to Roford with her and the other falcons so that they could house them properly and capture, man, and train more falcons.

“May I speak to you briefly?” William asked Marshal, blushing. Earlier, while they were on their way back to the castle, he had decided to ask his advice. Now that they had handed over their
horses to the stable boy, there was finally an opportunity to speak to Marshal in private.

“Of course, my boy. Go ahead.” Marshal nodded amiably.

“I need the advice of an experienced man.” William took a deep breath. “My stepfather, whom I greatly respected, is no longer with us, and I don’t know where to turn,” he began as they walked toward the accommodation tower.

“You want to talk to me about Robert, don’t you?” Marshal broke in.

“How did you know?”

“Look, William. I’m not blind. Carefully observing the people around me is a skill I have used and developed in all my years at court. I urge you to practice it yourself. On many occasions it has helped me to stay one step ahead of dangerous men and situations. Now, as to Robert, even a blind man can see that there isn’t the same understanding between you that there once was. What happened? What made you so angry with him?”

“Is my disappointment so obvious?” William looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping and then whispered, “I caught Robert committing the sin of sodomy in the forest.”

“I see,” said Marshal.

William waited awhile for him to continue, but in vain. “Richard was your friend, wasn’t he?” he asked cautiously.

“At first he was just my king. Although I fought against him and alongside his father, I have him to thank for my marriage, which was not only a good match, but has also been very happy. With time, yes, he did indeed become my friend.”

“I hear he twice confessed to the unmentionable vice.”

“Well, my boy, Richard had many failings, you know. As do we all. But his good characteristics outweighed them. God makes us account for our sins on Judgment Day—that’s what the church teaches us.” He crossed himself, and William did likewise. “Richard needed me, and like a true friend I never let him down.
Like many of us, he attracted blame on more than one occasion. He kept postponing his marriage to the French princess, even though it harmed him and the realm. Whether it was because he couldn’t come to terms with the idea of lying with a woman or for other reasons, I couldn’t say.” Marshal shrugged. “And I don’t care.”

“I heard he has a bastard,” William said. “So he did. I mean, he must have been attracted to at least one woman.”

Marshal stopped—they were quite close to the tower now—and looked at William. “He didn’t deny that he was the father, but does that mean he was with that woman? To tell you the truth, I doubt it. At one time, people used to say Richard chased after anything in a long gown. Then they said he took no pleasure in women but did from men.” Marshal sighed. “I’m just a man. What right would I have had to be Richard’s judge on earth? Only God could see into his heart.”

William stood there, his head bowed, and sniffed quietly.

“Anyone who has a true friend in this life, William, someone he can count on, is a happy man. I’ve tasted betrayal more than once, and I can tell you it leaves a sour taste when you see people you trust turn their backs on you. Friendship only really shows itself in times of need.”

“But Robert’s betrayal hurts so much,” William protested.

“Did he ever try to draw you into sinning with him?”

“God forbid! No!”

“Well, in that case I don’t understand why you charge him with betraying you.”

“He confessed that he desired me. Can he still feel honorable friendship for me?”

Marshal clapped him on the shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you, but I’m sure it’s not easy for him. And yet he doesn’t hate you. If he were my friend, I would reward his loyalty and forgive him. But it’s up to you.”

A page came running up and bowed first to Marshal and then to William.

“Sir William, the king desires you to be at his side.”

“I’m coming.” William nodded. “Will you excuse me?”

“Of course. Go.” Marshal smiled reassuringly.

William went with the page and thought about Marshal’s words. His instinct told him Marshal was right. As he entered the great hall, he saw how kindly Robert was talking to Adam, even though he knew who the boy was. Robert was a good person and would never turn against him or his family. When he looked up, William smiled at him, for the first time in a long time unable to resist his friend’s questioning expression.

A
cozy fire crackled in Queen Isabelle’s bedchamber.

“Richard’s bath is ready, my lady.” The young handmaid had poured the last bucket of water into the small tub and checked that it was not too hot.

“Are you sure you want to bathe the little one yourself? Shouldn’t we call for the nursemaid instead?” the young queen suggested anxiously, but Marguerite dismissed this with a smile.

“You’ll see, my lady, he loves hot water. The worst that can happen is that he gets us wet. So if you’re worried about your beautiful gown…”

“Oh, you silly goose,” cried Isabelle cheerfully. “What do I care about a bit of water? Go on, put him in!” She turned to the maid, who was standing there with the bucket in her hand. “You may go.”

Richard, who was wearing a knee-length linen shirt and nothing else, ran across the room, shrieking, when his mother tried to catch him. But Marguerite was too clever for him and cut off his escape. Richard swerved sharply, fell flat on his naked bottom, and stood up again immediately. Howling with laughter, he tried to escape his mother, but she caught him and soon had the wriggling little scamp in her arms.

“I’m going to eat you up, every bit of you,” she warned him, putting on a sinister voice and scrabbling at her son’s pale neck, tickling him at the same time.

Richard yelped and playfully struggled to get free.

“That’s right—now we’re going to give you a bath,” his mother cried as she placed him in the shallow tub.

“Bath, bath,” shouted Richard happily. He stopped wriggling and raised his arms obediently. Marguerite pulled his shirt over his head, cupped some water in her hand and poured it down his downy back.

Richard slapped the surface of the water enthusiastically, laughing with pleasure when it splashed.

Isabelle jumped back and laughed. “Here, put some attar of roses in the water. At least he’ll smell like a flower, even if he does splash like a puppy.”

“Don’t want to smell like a flower,” Richard shouted, shaking his head and slapping the water again with all his might.

After only a few moments, the floor around the little tub was soaking wet.

“Soon the people downstairs will be thinking there’s a leak,” Isabelle said. “In fact it’s just a dwarf having a bath in my room.”

Richard splashed enthusiastically and played with a small boat that William had carved for him out of an ox bone. He stayed there until his lips began to shine rather blue, and Marguerite decided to take him out of the water.

“No, stay in,” Richard protested, wriggling so energetically that she could not put him down on the floor.

Isabelle rushed over with her own linen towels. “Come here, you little frog.” She was about to drape the cloth over him when her eyes suddenly narrowed to slits. She threw the towel over the child and turned her back on him abruptly.

“What is it, my lady? Are you all right?” cried Marguerite, frightened.

“Am I all right?” Isabelle turned and approached her with a menacing expression on her face. “The king has yet to give
me
a child,” she said aggressively, beating her breast in indignation. “And believe me, I’ve given him more than enough opportunities.”

“Oh, my lady, you’re still so young. You’ll have a child soon, too.” Marguerite relaxed.

“But
I
wanted to be the one to give John his first son! A proper little prince,” cried Isabelle furiously, stamping her foot like a child.

“And you will. After all, his first wife didn’t bear him any children.”

“Indeed she didn’t, but what about
you
?” Isabelle screamed. “Do you think I’m blind? The loving way he looks at you all the time should have made me suspicious long ago.”

“My lady, if I may, I’m only his ward, and he loves me like a daughter, no more than that,” said Marguerite in an effort to pacify her.

It was certainly true that John was always particularly kind to her, but it had been like that since her childhood.

“Indeed? Well, Richard’s crooked bottom can’t just be a coincidence. His crack is bent to the left, just like John’s,” Isabelle screamed, leaving the room.

Once the heavy wooden door had shut behind her, Marguerite sat down on the bed. Her hands were trembling, and the blood was coursing through her body with such force she was unable to think clearly. “But my William is his father,” she called out.

“Isibel,” cried Richard, patting his mother’s face with his little hands. They were ice-cold.

“You’ll catch your death,” murmured Marguerite as she dried him and dressed him absently, lost in thought. The unborn child in her womb wriggled, and Marguerite stopped for a dreamy moment. She smiled. It was the first time she had felt her second child move.

While Marguerite and the queen were giving little Richard his bath, William took the opportunity to catch Marshal in front of the great hall.

“You’re right, my lord. I’ve thought long and hard about what friendship means to me. Robert is still important to me, whatever has happened. I suspect he is suffering at least as much as I am, so I’m going to follow your advice and forgive him.” William still did not feel comfortable addressing Marshal as simply William.

“It is good that you have decided to be magnanimous.” Marshal cleared his throat. “Walk with me a little. I need to go to the stables, and I have something to tell you.” He took his sword from his page and strapped it on. “Athanor has saved my life more than once.” He nodded to the page. “You may go.” When the boy looked at him with incredulity, he waved his hand as if shooing a fly. “Go.”