The Silver Falcon (66 page)

“Your Majesty, may I speak with you in private for a moment?” William bowed. During the banquet he had decided to go to the king in Marguerite’s place, in order to clear up this unpleasant matter once and for all. It had not escaped him that John kept
glancing resentfully at Isabelle and had finally flown into a rage because she, for her part, had completely ignored him.

“Not now,” snarled the king. He was standing with his back to William and staring into the fire that bathed his room in a soft light.

“Please, sire. It’s extremely important.”

“Important,” said John contemptuously. “Important for whom? For me, for England, or for you?” He turned and looked at William with his deep black eyes.

“For you, for England, and to a certain extent for me,” William admitted.

“I thought so,” John growled. “Make haste, or I’ll change my mind.”

William had carefully prepared what he should say to the king, but suddenly it was all gone. He cleared his throat.

“Well?”

“Would you like to know why the queen is angry with you?”

“What do you know about it? Come on, out with it.”

William cleared his throat again. “Your lady thinks you are the father of my son.” He bowed his head humbly.

“She thinks
what
? I’m Richard’s father? Who put such nonsense in her head? Marguerite was my ward, nothing more. I’ve never touched her!”

“Well, it seems you and little Richard have something in common. Your lady saw it and drew the conclusion that you must be the boy’s father.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?” The king looked questioningly at William.

“No, sire.”

“Why not? Because you love your lady? Because I said I’d never touched her?”

“That, too, but there’s another reason.”

The king nodded encouragingly.

“Marguerite has the same feature as Richard and, apparently, you.”

The king went pale suddenly. “What do you know, exactly?”

William flushed. “Not much, I must admit. I only know that the queen thinks my son is yours because his bottom is a little crooked, instead of being divided into two equal halves.” Marguerite had been right. What he was doing was unthinkable. Accusing the king of having a crooked backside. It would not be surprising if John had him tarred and feathered.

While William was still thinking about what John might do to him because of his effrontery, the king began to laugh. Quietly at first, then louder and louder. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“I think so, sire.”

“Alix de Hauville was my first love,” said the king, sighing nostalgically. “She never admitted that Marguerite was my daughter, but she must have known.” He shook his head pensively, then smiled roguishly. “Well, if that’s the way things are, I hope my sweet Isabelle will grant me a place in her bed again when I tell her Richard isn’t my son but my grandson, and that his mother is my daughter. Since Alix died long ago and can’t be a rival anymore, I think the queen will forgive me. Thank you for coming to me, William. You shall come to the feast tonight as usual. It’s the last night we celebrate the birth of Christ.” The king clapped William on the shoulder. “Go now, and don’t say a word to anyone, do you hear me?”

Standing outside the king’s door, William found he was almost disappointed. Why had he thought the king would be glad to find out that Marguerite was his daughter? The news seemed to have left him cold. Apparently he was glad to have an explanation for Isabelle and that was all. He had not said a word about Marguerite. Another father whose child meant little to him.

“My lord! Your lady, quickly!” It was Adam, running up to William as he crossed the courtyard on his way from the king. “She’s not well!”

“Oh God, please no,” cried William, chasing after him immediately.

When he rushed into the tent, the young queen was standing helplessly beside the unconscious Marguerite and looking at her fearfully. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean it.” She rushed out of the tent.

“What happened?” William looked at Marguerite’s handmaid and carefully raised his beloved.

“The queen was shouting and screaming at her,” the frightened girl reported. She was not yet twelve and far too inexperienced to be of any real service to her mistress, but Marguerite had insisted on bringing her into the household because she was the daughter of an important de Hauville. “And then my lady fell into a faint. I tried to catch her, but it was too late. I’m sorry, my lord.” She burst into tears.

“It’s all right,” said William to calm the girl down. He carried Marguerite to her bed. “Bring me some water and a towel,” he ordered, and the handmaid ran off to get what he needed.

William sat down on the bed beside Marguerite. When the terrified girl brought him the water, he nodded, dipped the towel in it, wrung it out, and dabbed Marguerite’s face with it. “How are you, dearest?” he asked gently when she came to.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, my dear.”

Marguerite sat up. “Yes, it did. The queen, she was so angry.” Tears were running down Marguerite’s face. William knew they were tears of despair. She simply could not bear injustice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still worried. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Oh, I feel wonderful! The queen thinks I’m her rival, so she hates me, and all I did was babble.” Marguerite closed her eyes and turned her head away. “I’m such a fool.”

William stroked her head gently. “It will be all right, my love, I promise you. The king said I shouldn’t tell anyone, but I’m sure he didn’t mean you.”

“You’ve spoken to him?” Marguerite turned to face him.

“Yes, I told him everything. He’s going to talk to Isabelle, and he wants to see us both at the feast tonight. Until then, you need to look after yourself.” Turning to the young handmaid, he said, “Go and fetch a midwife. I’d feel better if someone came to see her.”

Odon had heard why Adam had called William, and he was quietly jubilant. The queen had been in a foul mood when he went to see her that morning, furious and ready to attack, as one might expect of a jealous wife.

He himself had advised her to confront Marguerite, even though he knew this would not help; rather, it would inflame her further. But that was the whole point.

Odon hummed a tune one of the troubadours from Aquitaine had performed many times lately. Had the queen actually attacked her rival? Perhaps there had been a fight, and Marguerite had accidentally fallen? If her labor pains began now, and she lost the child, William would be bound to lose his temper and fall out with the king and queen. Odon looked up to heaven. What a wonderful day!

His plan seemed to have worked in every respect. He was thoroughly pleased with himself. If fate was kind to him for a little longer, he would soon be able to reap the fruits of his labors and see William and his followers thrown out of court.

The truth was that he had never forgotten the affair with William and the slingshot. Odon could still hear his companions’ mockery. He’d fallen like a tree, he whom they had all feared until that day. From then on he’d had to fight for respect. Until then,
Robert had never fought back, no matter how much Odon humiliated him. To everyone’s amusement, he had even burst into tears occasionally when Odon abused him. Odon had earned the respect of his companions by means of his bullying. But once William, who was smaller, younger, and physically inferior, had stood up to him and encouraged Robert to do the same, his position as leader of his little band came into question.

Odon snorted angrily. The woman in the forest had been like William. She herself was to blame for what happened. Why did she put up a fight? Why did she try to put off the men with her ghastly song? If she had just kept her mouth shut, nothing would have happened to her, Odon thought contemptuously. But no, she had to sing. How foolish to beg him for help, him of all people. As if he would have risked looking like a coward for her sake.

“You accursed cripple, I’ll finish you off,” he snarled. He still had a trump card up his sleeve, and he was going to play that, too, in order to be sure that nothing else would go wrong.

“And tell Emma that Richard shouldn’t stay up so late. He’s still too young to sit by the fire and listen to the men’s gruesome stories.” Marguerite looked around anxiously. “I don’t understand why they’re not back yet. It will be dark soon. You must scold them if they come in any later.” Marguerite smiled at her young handmaid. Emma, the nursemaid, was a reliable person. Richard was in safe hands with her. So she did not need to worry, and yet she had an uneasy feeling. She tried to suppress it by twisting and turning. “Well?”

“You look lovely, my lady.” The girl’s whole face was beaming.

“I can only second that, fair as a princess,” William peeped into the tent, then came in and kissed Marguerite on the tip of her nose.

“I feel wonderful, too,” she murmured. “Since I heard that the queen wasn’t going to be angry with me anymore, I feel on top of the world.” She smiled. “The midwife said fainting in my condition is perfectly normal. So you don’t need to worry, do you hear?”

“Good, now we can go at last. The king is waiting for us, my lady,” said William archly, offering her his arm.

“I’d be honored, my lord.”

As they were walking toward the hall, they saw Odon gripping Adam by the arm.

William was about to intervene, but Marguerite held him back. “Leave him alone. He won’t do anything to the boy. It’s good for him to see that nothing bad is happening to Adam in our house.”

“That’s the only bad thing about being married to a clever woman—you have to accept that she’s always right.” He kissed her hand and led her up the stairs to the accommodation tower.

The boy had not given him so much as a glance. He had even tried to steal past without greeting him. Odon was outraged.

“One moment, young man.” He grabbed Adam’s arm and held him back. “Perhaps you overlooked your father?” He looked him fiercely in the eye, trying to look menacing, but the boy’s expression made him feel unusually gentle.

Adam looked down and shook his head without a word.

“Are they treating you decently?” asked Odon, hoping to break the ice between them. “If you don’t want to stay with them—”