says, only a younger brother with a very
poor claim to the throne of England. It’s nonsense, of course. The
Conqueror clearly stated just before he died that England was to go
to William, and Normandy to Robert, and King William cannot allow
such an insult to pass unnoticed. We sail for Normandy on
Candlemass Day, and I hope to God William puts an end to that
unpleasant older brother of his.”
“I will miss you,” she said, surprised to
find it was true.
“What, do you care for me, my lady? I think
not.” He laughed at her, then looked thoughtful. “There is
something you can do for me while I am gone. Isn’t it odd that I
trust you? There are few others I can depend upon.”
“I always have your interests at heart, my
lord.”
“Say rather that your interest in my position
at court coincides with my own. What I am, you are also, my lady.
Baroness or countess or perhaps something greater.”
“Just so, my lord.”
“And you have never looked at another man in
two whole months of marriage. Considering how most ladies in this
palace behave, I find that touching.”
“My one experience of a man did not encourage
me to look for more.” The words slipped out without her usual
careful consideration before speaking of their non-existent marital
relations.
“Be careful, my dear.” Lionel raised a
cautionary finger. “Do not irritate me, or it is Adderbury for
you.”
Isabel had learned that the best thing to do
when Lionel began to be annoyed with her was change the
subject.
“You said there is something you wanted me to
do for you?” she asked.
“Yes. Guard well my interests here at court
while I am gone. I will be with William at all times, and I can
keep him, shall we say, inclined in my favor, but there are those
who are jealous of me. I need you to protect my back, so to speak,
when I ride into battle. Let me know at once should any intrigues
against me be started here in England. Particularly watch Ralph
Flambard. I do not like that man.”
“I will do my best to keep you informed of
everything that happens while you are away,” Isabel promised.
“Of course you will. It is for your benefit,
too, my dear.” He smiled his beautiful, false smile and left
her.
* * * * *
She did miss him. She almost convinced
herself that she cared for him and would welcome him home with open
arms and a warm bed. She did not know why she felt that way, unless
it was anger at the other ladies who repeatedly made sly comments
over her slenderness, meaning her flat belly and un-pregnant state.
It was a clever, catty way of hurting her for what was an open
secret by now: King William’s deep attachment to Lionel.
“Pay no attention to them,” Aloise advised on
the day when a particularly sharp-tongued lady had nearly reduced
Isabel to tears. “They say the same things to me, but I don’t
care.”
“Of course you don’t,” Isabel snapped. “Your
husband is too old for them to blame you. But Lionel – how they
despise him!”
“They envy him,” Aloise said wisely. “Were
the king a different kind of man, any one of those ninnies sitting
there embroidering would gladly throw herself into the royal bed to
improve her own and her family’s station. Forget them, Isabel. They
are unimportant.”
But Isabel could not forget. The opinions of
those ladies did matter to her. Isabel wished, not for the first
time, that it were possible to produce a child without help from a
man.
The king and his men were gone for eight
months, returning to England in September only to make preparations
for war against King Malcolm of Scotland, who in William’s absence
had crossed the border into northern England.
Lionel had few kind words of greeting for his
wife. Not only had King William made peace with his irascible older
brother, but Duke Robert and the youngest royal brother, Henry,
with whom William had also patched up a quarrel, had both returned
to England with him. With the new closeness among these
poor claim to the throne of England. It’s nonsense, of course. The
Conqueror clearly stated just before he died that England was to go
to William, and Normandy to Robert, and King William cannot allow
such an insult to pass unnoticed. We sail for Normandy on
Candlemass Day, and I hope to God William puts an end to that
unpleasant older brother of his.”
“I will miss you,” she said, surprised to
find it was true.
“What, do you care for me, my lady? I think
not.” He laughed at her, then looked thoughtful. “There is
something you can do for me while I am gone. Isn’t it odd that I
trust you? There are few others I can depend upon.”
“I always have your interests at heart, my
lord.”
“Say rather that your interest in my position
at court coincides with my own. What I am, you are also, my lady.
Baroness or countess or perhaps something greater.”
“Just so, my lord.”
“And you have never looked at another man in
two whole months of marriage. Considering how most ladies in this
palace behave, I find that touching.”
“My one experience of a man did not encourage
me to look for more.” The words slipped out without her usual
careful consideration before speaking of their non-existent marital
relations.
“Be careful, my dear.” Lionel raised a
cautionary finger. “Do not irritate me, or it is Adderbury for
you.”
Isabel had learned that the best thing to do
when Lionel began to be annoyed with her was change the
subject.
“You said there is something you wanted me to
do for you?” she asked.
“Yes. Guard well my interests here at court
while I am gone. I will be with William at all times, and I can
keep him, shall we say, inclined in my favor, but there are those
who are jealous of me. I need you to protect my back, so to speak,
when I ride into battle. Let me know at once should any intrigues
against me be started here in England. Particularly watch Ralph
Flambard. I do not like that man.”
“I will do my best to keep you informed of
everything that happens while you are away,” Isabel promised.
“Of course you will. It is for your benefit,
too, my dear.” He smiled his beautiful, false smile and left
her.
* * * * *
She did miss him. She almost convinced
herself that she cared for him and would welcome him home with open
arms and a warm bed. She did not know why she felt that way, unless
it was anger at the other ladies who repeatedly made sly comments
over her slenderness, meaning her flat belly and un-pregnant state.
It was a clever, catty way of hurting her for what was an open
secret by now: King William’s deep attachment to Lionel.
“Pay no attention to them,” Aloise advised on
the day when a particularly sharp-tongued lady had nearly reduced
Isabel to tears. “They say the same things to me, but I don’t
care.”
“Of course you don’t,” Isabel snapped. “Your
husband is too old for them to blame you. But Lionel – how they
despise him!”
“They envy him,” Aloise said wisely. “Were
the king a different kind of man, any one of those ninnies sitting
there embroidering would gladly throw herself into the royal bed to
improve her own and her family’s station. Forget them, Isabel. They
are unimportant.”
But Isabel could not forget. The opinions of
those ladies did matter to her. Isabel wished, not for the first
time, that it were possible to produce a child without help from a
man.
The king and his men were gone for eight
months, returning to England in September only to make preparations
for war against King Malcolm of Scotland, who in William’s absence
had crossed the border into northern England.
Lionel had few kind words of greeting for his
wife. Not only had King William made peace with his irascible older
brother, but Duke Robert and the youngest royal brother, Henry,
with whom William had also patched up a quarrel, had both returned
to England with him. With the new closeness among these
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